


DragonAge: The Halla Reborn

by EvaGalana



Series: The Halla [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-02 22:06:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 9
Words: 43,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2827712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvaGalana/pseuds/EvaGalana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young elven craftswoman, friend of the queen, respected member of the Elven community. A nobleman's obsession causes her carefully planned future to diverge upon a much different path: To unite a nation against all odds and stop the Blight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1 - Two years before origins event

A quick, precise movement of the pen knife, and the offending sliver flaked off the ivory form. Long, dexterous fingers lovingly smoothed the intricately carved surface before placing the small figure of a halla into the box with several other similar figures. 'Ah, the Queen will like these,' the young elven woman thought, a pleased smile forming upon her lips. Brushing back a stray blonde lock and neatly tucking it behind one delicate, pointed ear, she turned to another halla figurine. This one was far more intricately carved in a more stylized design, representing a form similar to ancient elven works of art. The horns were longer and more curved than the other figures, it's tale swooping upwards and over its back. Other curling carvings embellished the surface of the figure itself. Picking it up, impossibly blue eyes scrutinized its shape, alert for any imperfections. Satisfied, she placed the figure in the box with its less intricate brethren, placed a cover over the top, and picked it up under one arm.

An older elven man looked up from his work bench, holding in his hands the wooden beginnings of a toy soldier. Smiling at the girl, offering a slight nod, Cyrion Tabris went back to his work. There were many other orders for the pair of skilled artists to fulfill, but Cyrion knew well that his daughter was anxious to get the figurines to the palace.

"I am certain the Queen, and most importantly Lord Alaric's daughter, will be most pleased with your works, my daughter," he replied as his gaze shifted back to the partially formed toy in his hands.

Adela smiled softly at her father, turning slightly to place a quick kiss on his cheek. "I am certain Anora will like them well enough." Despite her confident words, a finger tapped anxiously on the box.

"Ah, now child," Cyrion's hands continued to work the wood even as his eyes left it to seek out his daughter's face, "your apprenticeship ended and now you are worried your first complete order will be less than acceptable?"

Adela grinned. "At least my first order is for Anora," she turned toward the door, one slender hand on the handle, "she always likes my work."

Cyrion laughed. "Of course she does. She has good taste."

With a nod, Adela turned the handle and left the tiny workshop, stepping out into the Denerim Alienage that had been her home for her entire life.

Dirty, squalid, poverty ridden…the Alienage was thus to those who did not understand that there was so much more to it than what was seen by the eyes of those fortunate - or less fortunate - not to live in one. Yes, these conditions did, indeed, exist for the elves that lived there. As in all of Fereldan's cities, the elves were segregated away from human citizens, called upon mostly as laborers or servants, and thought of as less than, well, human. But for many who lived within the Alienage, they knew that there was also closeness, family, a shared history that, although the human populations throughout Thedas had tried to wipe completely clean, still existed. Nothing - not slavery, war, famine, pestilence, not even an Exalted March itself - could take away the pride elves felt for their history. Gone though it may be, never to be recovered, mostly forgotten, it still had existed, had been. And, for those like the craftsman Cyrion and his equally talented daughter, that was enough.

And so, always feeling pride in her Alienage, Adela stepped out into the rubbish strewn walkway and made her way to the high gate that cordoned off the Alienage from the rest of Denerim. And, with a slight nod of her blonde head to the guard at the gate, the young elven woman walked through the market place and toward the section of the city where the nobles - including the Arl of Denerim - lived.

Adela always disliked going through this part of the city. She always felt she was being closely scrutinized, either by those looking for an elf to be the "cause" of some trouble or some lecherous noble looking for some "company". While Adela herself had never been accosted, she still was fully aware that such could happen. And so, she always made certain to leave her knives back at the workshop or home as elves were not allowed weapons of any kind and to be caught with a weapon meant imprisonment or worse. She always kept her eyes straight ahead, on course, and did not make eye contact with any of the denizens of this particular quarter.

She was thusly fully unaware of the pair of cold emerald green eyes that followed her every move as she passed the Arl's estate. Fully unaware that these same eyes always sought her out and watched her either in the marketplace or as she passed by the mansion on her way to the palace.

DA:O

Thurlow scowled out from his post in front of the Royal Palace. He hated guard duty. Not only did his feet ache, but it was Maker awful boring. Brown eyes scoured the area beyond the gates. Wait, what was this? A familiar feminine figure was walking up to the gates. Was it…? Yes, it was. A smile forming on his rugged features, Thurlow stood straight, offering a slight bow to the slender elven woman who walked purposefully toward him. Thurlow watched as the thoughtful, carefully guarded expression upon her lovely face fell and her expression lit up upon sight of him. Thurlow, like others who guarded the front gates, were always polite and friendly to the young elven lass. To do otherwise (as some of Thurlow's fellow guards had the misfortune to learn) would be to invite, at best censure, at worse expulsion. Everyone knew that the elven craftswoman was considered a friend to the queen and though many could not understand the peculiarity of the friendship, none had been foolish enough to test it since the first few times she visited the palace. Adela graced the guard with a wider smile, a slight bow of her head, and a wink as she passed by and into the courtyard.

The butler met Adela at the door, bowing before her as he sent a maid off to alert the queen to the elven woman's arrival. Adela took the opportunity to glance around the huge foyer, its walls lined with comfortable chairs, a huge staircase curving upwards along the furthest wall. Adela smirked slightly at the opulence of the room, imagining how luxurious the other rooms of the palace must be if such expense went into the entryway of the castle. She did not notice as a handsome human man, golden hair swept back from his face with two braids, dressed in expensive doublet and hose, made his way down the stairs, a happy grin spreading across his face upon sight of the girl.

"Adela!" the man cried as he hurried to her side.

Quickly and with the grace inbred to her race, Adela dropped into a low, floor sweeping curtsey. The man laughed at her as he pulled her up. "No, no, none of that! You are practically family!" he laughed again. "Can you picture Loghain bowing to me?"

Adela allowed a slightly scandalized expression to cross her face. "I certainly hope you are not comparing my irregular visits to the palace on par with Loghain's near residence here?"

"Ha! Of course not! Although," and he bent down slightly, a conspirator tone gracing his elegant voice, "I believe Anora would agree that your company is far more pleasant."

His grin and good humor was infectious. Adela knew how loved Cailan was by the subjects of Fereldan, and with his easy manners and quick wit, it was easy to see why. Unlike many other girls, however, Adela was nearly - but not completely - immune to his good looks. Not that she didn't find him attractive. She just never allowed her thoughts to venture beyond the thought that he was attractive. He was married and, regardless of what rumors may say, she was fairly certain he was devoted to his wife.

"Adela," a smooth, cultured feminine voice called from one of the alcoves, "I had not been aware of your arrival." Anora, queen of Fereldan, glided across the porcelain tiles of the foyer, her father, Loghain Mac Tir, Hero of River Dane, followed, a slight scowl (Adela believed it was always there) on his stern features. Again, Adela dropped into a graceful curtsy, ignoring Cailan's sniggers behind her as well as the slightly disapproving look that shone in Anora's clear blue eyes.

"Adela, I'm certain my husband has already said that this is not necessary," Anora scolded as she stopped before the smaller elven woman, a smile forming on her perfect lips. "You are a friend and a guest…"

Shaking her head, Adela replied, "And you are the queen of Fereldan and need to expect that, even a friend and guest must show proper respect for one's betters." Grinning at the small lines forming between Anora's brows, Adela held up the box. "And, I bear gifts."

With a happy gasp, Anora took the box from Adela's hands, and led Adela to the small room off the foyer where she and her father had been moments before, Loghain and Cailan following closely behind.

While Anora and Cailan inspected the figurines, Adela looked around the room, taking in the books - Books! - that lined the walls as well as the comfortable furnishings. She presumed this was a study, perhaps a waiting room for visitors awaiting announcement into the palace. She had never had to wait long before being called into either Anora or Cailan's presence whenever she arrived at the palace - whether she was bearing crafts ordered by the palace or just for a visit. Shrugging, she turned her gaze from the books and noticed Loghain watching her. Raising her right eyebrow, she met his openly frank expression with one of her own. A slight quirk of the corners of his mouth was the only response to her scrutiny, and then he, too, went over to inspect her work. Sighing with relief, she turned her gaze once again to the books, trying to hide her nervousness as the nobles examined her work.

Anora had pulled out the six matching hallas, leaving the odd one - Adela's pride and joy - still in the box. Turning with the figurines in hand, Anora caught Adela's attention. "These are exquisite, Adela," there was an almost breathless quality to Anora's soft voice. "I am simply in awe of the quality of the work. Your father is extremely talented."

A blush forming pink on her cheeks, the young elven woman responded, "Those are my work, Anora. I carved them."

Three pair of eyes turned to her. The blush deepened. "It looks like there is talent in the Tabris line," Cailan chuckled, openly admiring the young girl. Loghain's expression was more thoughtful, and then his eyes turned to the lone halla left in the box. He picked it up, examining it, noting the difference between it and the other six.

Anora turned, placing the six back in the box. "I will call for the seneschal and arrange for payment of these," she smiled as she passed by Adela, placing a cool hand on her arm as Adela opened her mouth to protest. "They are lovely, and you will be paid for these." and with a look to her husband, left the room. Cailan offered a slight grin and followed his wife.

Adela fidgeted slightly. She had never been left in a room alone with Loghain. She admitted, the man made her nervous. He was always watching, scrutinizing, taking everything in with very little word. Yes, she could meet his gaze, when she felt fortified by knowing friends - particularly Anora - was present. But now? She was just nervous. And, to try and cover up her nervousness, she moved closer to the books and pretended to examine them with care.

She nearly jumped when she heard his voice. "This one is done in a different style," he observed in a dry voice.

Turning her attention to the Teryn, she replied, with a slight quiver in her voice, "Ahm, yes. Well, I had found a book depicting ancient elven artworks. I copied it and decided to include it with the others. I knew Anora wouldn't want to give an odd set, but I thought she may like it nonetheless." She smiled as her eyes went to the small figure held in his large hands. Her work of art. She was quite pleased by it, and had wanted Anora to have it.

Anora returned, followed closely by the seneschal, a smallish man, balding and with a perpetual scowl on his face (far more severe than even Loghain's, Adela thought). As Adela turned her attention back to the queen and seneschal, Loghain's eyes went back to the ivory figure in his hands. Glancing at the elven woman's back, he pocketed the figure, and, with a bow to his daughter, left the room.


	2. Chapter 2 - One Week Before Origins Event

Night was falling, and Adela found herself just leaving the palace to return home after a visit with Anora. The queen had heard of Adela's betrothal and had insisted upon having the younger woman over for a celebratory tea, which was actually a nice reprieve when compared to what she knew her cousin and friends had planned for her (she almost shudders at the thought). While Adela appreciated Anora's generosity, she had been more than a little uncomfortable with having been waited upon by the palace's elven servants, some of whom she knew from the Alienage. Shifting with her discomfort, she had been glad when she and Anora had been left alone, to gossip (as young women will), tell childhood tales (they did not share much in common, but it was interesting to swap tales nonetheless), or express (on Adela's part) trepidation regarding wedding night obligations. This conversation had the elven woman blushing profusely, while Anora tried to give her best regal advice. At one point, they were both laughing so hard one of the servants poked her head in, as it was rare that the queen would be caught so unguarded.

Now, her arms laden with small gifts, Adela wished she had taken Anora's offer of having one of the guards escort her back to the Alienage (she had seen Thurlow waiting at the door, willing to take the trek across the city to do so), but Adela had waved away the offer, saying she didn't want to take someone from their scheduled duties, and had left the palace without another word on the subject.

The journey through the noble section was relatively uneventful. She had noticed several noblemen entering the Arl's estate, one or two stopping to watch the lovely elven woman pass by. A sharp word from inside the doorway and the noblemen continued inward without a second glance back. Adela exhaled the breath she hadn't realized she was holding and continued on.

She continued her walk, her unease growing. There was nothing threatening, no one about that should or would cause her disquiet. No, at this time, it was memories that assailed her, memories she had believed to be so far into her past as to not be able to affect her now. She continued her walk homeward, the events of nine years before clouding her mind, yet her eyes kept sharp for any threat that may come. This time she returns home safely, the guard at the Alienage gave offering her a small smile as she passes through. She smiled back, glancing upwards toward her home, knowing that in just a few days' time, she will be meeting with the stranger who will be her husband and the house she grew up in will no longer be her home.

_The two elves walked quietly through the main gates of the city. The elder, a beautiful woman with sunny blonde hair, piercing blue eyes and an intricate tattoo surrounding one eye, pulled her young daughter closer to her side as they continued through. Whispering words of encouragement in an ancient elven tongue, she encouraged her child as they continued on, through back streets, towards the marketplace. They had been out of the city longer than anticipated, Adaia determined to continue teaching her child the use of bow and blade, regardless of the shemlen's foolish rules that no elf bear weapons. She scoffed at their rules. Had she not been proficient with her own bow during the shemlens' own rebellion against the Orlesians, many would have died - including their king. She shook her head at the old memories and promises forgotten. Glancing down at her daughter, she did not regret not returning to her clan, instead remaining when she had met and fell in love with a skillful craftsman from Denerim Alienage. Still, she trusted no blade but her own, and wished fervently that things had indeed improved for the elves as had been promised. But, even promises from a king as good and kind hearted as Maric could not always be met, and so Adaia continued to teach her daughter in secret, and protect those of the Alienage as best as she could. She knew, as did many of the city guard and the elves themselves that she was all that stood between the elves being safe or being victims to the local shems' whims._

_Adaia Mahariel Tabris pulled her daughter to a stop. Tilting her head, her sharp ears easily picked up the sound of feet scuffling upon stone ground, kicking small pebbles. Not much of an attempt at silence, she mused. Foolish shems. She turned, seeking the source, and realized that the sounds came from several places surrounding her and her daughter. Perhaps not so foolish, she amended. She reached under her cloak to the daggers she had sheathed there. True, she was well aware of the law against elves having weapons. But, it was a foolish law; one the proud Dalish hunter had little desire of obeying. She pushed her daughter forward, increasing their pace. She'd rather avoid a fight, especially with Adela so young, so inexperienced._

_It was obvious that Adaia's desire to avoid a fight was not shared by those who stalked them. As she neared the center of the street, four men stepped from the shadows. Frowning, Adaia pulled Adela to a halt, cocking her head again, certain there were more about. Perhaps just watchers, she thought. And none would come to the aid of a couple of knife-ears, she realized bitterly._

" _Well, well, well," one of the men stepped boldly forward, a lecherous grin on his face. "What do we have here? Coupla knife-ears." The other men, emboldened by their leader's initial confrontation, chuckled lewdly. The leader stepped closer, his grey eyes scanning Adaia's face and form with appreciation. "Come now, girly. How's about a roll?"_

_Adaia's face remained passive, yet fury roared within. How dare they? She pulled her daughter closer and to the side of her, allowing her hands to be free should she need to unsheathe her weapons. The rowdies' leader, unaware that a skilled Dalish warrior stood before him, stepped even closer. "Ah, yer brat can join the fun, too." He moved a hand toward Adaia's face, and she slapped it away, glaring menacingly at the much larger human male who stood before her. Still, only four men stood blocking her path. The others she sensed in the shadows were either bystanders or others waiting to block her path back. Either way, she'd get no help from them._

_Anger crossed the harsh face before her. "Stupid knife-ear whore," he grunted at her, his hand going back and delivering a sharp backhanded blow to her face. "Learn your place!" The blow connected, staggering her slightly. Had she not assumed a battle stance, she would have been knocked from her feet by the strength behind the blow. The others advanced, and in one swift motion, she pulled her twin daggers taking a defensive stance over her daughter, who had remained quiet and calm, following her mother's previous instructions to the letter: If we encounter trouble, remain beside me; when an opportunity presents itself, run and do not look back. Adela remained at her mother's side, her eyes scanning for an exit. She felt her mother shove her away as Adaia moved forward to meet the oncoming men, they, too, armed with knifes and swords. Adela saw her chance, sprang away, and melted into the shadows. None of her mother's adversaries noticed._

_Adela watched the battle from the shadows, unable to leave as the others who hid in the shadows surged forth, shouting their anger at the elf that dared draw a weapon against the humans. She watched as her mother spun and dipped, adroitly missing one clumsy swipe of a sword, spinning behind her attacker and quickly stabbing forth, into his back. He straightened in shock, and then slipped from her blade, blood surging forth from the wound as he slumped to the ground. A cry of outrage could be heard, and Adaia was swarmed from all sides by angered humans, intent upon murder of the mother defending her child._

_Adela cried out as a child of barely ten summers would. Her own training forgotten, she stepped from the shadows, almost rushed to the scene, when her arm was caught and held tightly. She looked upon into the stern face of a raven haired human man. His noble countenance held barely retained fury as he pulled the girl aside. Then, with a commanding voice, he ordered the guardsmen with him forward. She watched as the armed guards hacked down those who had attacked her mother. Then, as the crowd fell away, Adela could see the bloody form of her mother - her proud, beautiful mother - lying motionless on the ground, the bodies of her four initial assailants lying not far from her. A sob escaped her lips, and she ran forward, not noticing that the man who had ordered the guards forward had followed closely behind. The child did not recognize her mother beneath the blood, and her sobs became wretched as she screamed out to the Maker and the Dalish gods, the Creators, to bring her mamae back. The man knelt beside her, gently pulling her away. Then, with tenderness and care he lifted Adaia's body from the cold, bloody ground, looked down at the child, startling blue eyes meeting paler blues, and walked away._

_Adela followed, unsure where they were heading, but she knew it was away from the Alienage. Was he going to put her in prison? She had wondered fearfully. Then she saw it - the palace. Why here? Oh no…she was certain she'd be thrown into the dungeons. Panic erupted throughout her small body, but, she couldn't force herself to run away, to leave her mother with this unknown man._

_The guards at the front gate gasped when they saw the tall man enter with the bloody figure of the elven woman in his arms. The front doors were immediately opened to allow him, his burden and the child following after him egress. The scowl deepened upon his face and he trudged through the palace, passed startled servants and appalled nobles as he pushed his way into the main chamber where an important meeting - the Landsmeet - was being held. A heated discussion was silenced as he stepped in. The king, heavy crown on his head, an almost bored expression upon his face, looked over and then stood up, boredom giving way to disbelief, then to anger and sorrow as the newcomer continued toward the throne, his burden feeling so very heavy in his strong arms. Maric slowly walked down the dais to stand before the man. He glanced down to see the small girl standing in the taller man's shadow, and a look of recognition and pain crossed the king's handsome face._

" _Loghain, what has happened?" Maric asked, feeling foolish in the question._

_Loghain, never taking his eyes from the face of the woman in his arms, shook his head before replying, "We should never have let her remain in Denerim," he replied, looking up into Maric's face. He then continued. "Not if we had no intention of honoring our promise to her." With that, Loghain turned around, and, with his guardsmen still behind him, one of whom had taken Adela's small hand in his, made the long walk to the Alienage, where the elves' heroine could be laid to rest._


	3. Chapter 3

Raising a smooth, long fingered hand to brush away an errant lock, Adela pulled her knees up, resting her chin upon them. Shianni had planned and pulled off a gathering of all of their female friends as a celebration to Adela's last day as a child. The young elf blushed as she tried not to think of the advice her most experienced friends offered for the wedding night. They were far more livid and detailed than the discussion she and Anora had shared a few nights prior.

Adela allowed a small frown to cross her lovely features. Why did Shianni invite Elva? She hated Adela. Oh, sure…she knew she and Shianni were drinking friends, but to invite her to Adela's celebration. The older elven woman, bitter from her own sorry union, sneered and insulted the bride-to-be at any opportunity. She took great pleasure in reminding all in attendance that the quality of Shianni's party could not compare to the gathering she must have had at the palace. Adela snorted indelicately. She was well aware that some in the Alienage - though hardly all, or even a majority - resented her friendship with the royals. They were like Elva - bitter, unhappy people who looked to others to blame for their miserable existence. Adela, and most others from the Alienage, knew well that her friendship with Cailan and Anora stemmed from a shared history - her mother had known the king, had fought by his side, as well as Queen Rowan and General Loghain's, during the rebellion. Upon Adaia's death, King Maric had taken to commissioning artwork from her father, prompting regular visits to the palace. Moreover, although Cailan was several years older than the Tabris girl was, he had taken to her quickly, chasing her in games of tag in the gardens or touring the palace. It was through Cailan she had met Anora, who had been quiet and, at first, disapproving of the friendship between the elven child and her betrothed. However, Adela's easygoing nature and direct honesty won the young woman over, and Anora found herself captivated by the child. Cailan and Anora had continued to commission much of their artwork from the Tabris family, and it was their patronage of the elven artist that had led to other nobles and notables to commissioning works of their own. Cyrion's renown as a skillful sculpture had grown, and their pockets were lined with enough money to keep a house of their own, one large enough to accommodate Cyrion, Adela and her two cousins, as well as afford a separate workshop and store front, with entrances into both the Alienage and Market Place. Hard work had earned their place. Years of understanding and an open honesty that neither of the current majesties could experience from their peers had created the friendship. Yet, there would always be those few who felt they were entitled, regardless of the effort they put into their lives.

A long, sad, loud sigh escaped her lips. It was that very same wealth that allowed her father to offer a dowry for Adela's intended husband. A man she had yet to meet. Word had arrived that he was within days of the Alienage, and they were to wed upon his arrival. Nelaros from the Highever Alienage. Apparently, he was from a good family, artisans and craftsmen such as her own. Nelaros was a blacksmith, who not only worked the more practical works of horseshoes, nails, and other such, but also was also known as creating works of art using iron and other metals.  _At least we will have something in common,_ she thought, trying to cheer herself up. She admitted to herself, it really wasn't working. She glanced up at the night's sky, stars twinkling overhead. The idea of tying herself to someone she had never met, simply so that she would no longer be considered a child. The idea did not sit well with her.

Slowly, she unfolded herself, and climbed down from the rooftop. Despite the fact that her party still went on, the young woman went into her home, shut the door to her room, and fell into an uneasy sleep.

"Cousin? Wake up, sleepy head!" a small, soft hand gently nudged her shoulder. "Time to wake up!"

A soft moan escaped her lips and she opened her eyes. Her room was bathed in gentle sunlight. Twisting her head, she spied her cousin, Shianni, leaning over her, a soft smile on her pretty features. "Shianni?" Adela sat up, brushing her unruly hair from her face. "Oh, it's morning! I…"

"Overslept?" Shianni chuckled. "Well, yes, you did. But, Uncle figured you deserved it. Even if you did leave your own party early!" With a playful swat to her arm, Shianni set herself down beside her cousin.

Adela looked askance at her cousin. "What's up?" She asked, knowing full well something was up, and she the feeling in the pit of her stomach assured her she knew exactly what was.

With a great smirk upon her face, Shianni confirmed, "Your betrothed, Nelaros. He's arrived!"

Silence. Adela knew her intended was within days of the Alienage, but he arrived even sooner than expected. While she knew she could not put it off, she had hoped for a day or two. She shook her head, rising from her bed. "He's early." Nothing like stating the obvious.

Shianni thought so, too. "Nothing gets by you," she laughed, standing up to grab her reluctant cousin by the hands and spinning her about. "Oh, but I caught a glimpse of him, Cousin," she winked suggestively, "and he's  _handsome_!"

Feeling a bit defiant, Adela grumbled, "Well, at least Father didn't buy me an ugly stranger to wed."

Her cousin only laughed at the blonde elf's unusual surliness. "Come now! You didn't drink nearly enough last night to be so…"

"Honest? Understandably upset? Reluctant? Take your pick."

"Oh, but weddings are so…wonderful," a sigh escaped Adela's cousin's lips. "You are so lucky!"

Adela snorted in a way that would have made Anora cringed. "Then maybe you should marry him!"

Giggling, Shianni let go of her cousin's hands. "Trust me, Adela. If I thought I could get away with it, I certainly would!" Smirking at Adela's groan, Shianni stepped closer. "Come now, Cousin. You knew this day was coming. What do you think all the parties were for?"

Still in her rare moment of pique, Adela threw a retort, "An excuse for you to drink?"

"Phwt! Since when do I need an excuse?" Responded quickly and with great humor. The woman knew her weakness, and so was not insulted by her cousin's slur. She was a Tabris, and so accepted it. "Soris' bride arrived last night. He's sweating like a human! "The girl giggled at her elder brother's expense. Then, with a sigh, "Now, I have to get my dress from Nola. Your mother's dress is hanging up in your closet." Shianni turned from her cousin, and then glanced back over her shoulder. "Adela, it's supposed to be a happy day. Enjoy it." And, with those words, she walked out in search of her dress.

Alone, Adela strove to shake off her melancholy. Yes, she knew this day would arrive. Moreover, she knew she could not - would not - fight against tradition. It was too important. To important to her family, to her community, to the way elves sought to hold onto their old ways. Learn a trade or skill, marry to become an adult, give birth to many elven babies, and continue the cycle. Someday, she hoped, the elves would find more of their ways…she shook her head. The thought of wearing her mother's wedding dress caused thoughts of her mother - not just how she looked, or smelled, but thought - storming to mind. Would her mother be pleased for this day? Or would she rage against it? Stepping to her closet, she pulled the cream-colored dress from its hanger. Holding it against her, she stepped in front of her mirror. With her yellow blonde hair and blue-blue eyes, Adela knew she was near the spitting image of her mother. Smaller in stature, true. She remembered her mother as being taller than many of the men it the Alienage, whereas Adela was smaller than most women were. Her mother's dress had been altered to accommodate her smaller waist, chest and hips, and shortened - slightly - to just above her ankles. Removing her night shift, she changed her underclothes, and then pulled the lovely dress over her head. Smoothing out non-existent wrinkles, Adela smiled. She truly hoped her mother would be pleased for this day. After quickly brushing her hair, taming the waves and curls into an organized halo about her face, she stepped from the room and into the main area, where her father sat at the table, a thoughtful expression upon his face. He looked up and gasped at the sight of his daughter. Rising slowly, he stepped over to her, gazing down into her blue eyes.

"You look just like your mother did on our wedding day," he breathed, caught up in his memories of the woman he had loved since the first time he had seen her - fierce in her Dalish armor, a bow strapped across her back, daggers bared as she escorted the returned king into his city, through the marketplace and toward the palace. He shook himself from his revelries and noted that Adela smiled, though it did not quite touch her usually expressive eyes.

"I know you are not happy about this," he began, "but…"

Adela nodded, taking her father's hands in her own. "I may not be happy about it, but I understand my duty and place." She smiled truly then. "I just hope mother would approve."

Cyrion frowned just slightly. "It was hard to tell with your mother. But, I think mostly she'd want you to be happy." His expression turned serious. "Nelaros is from a good family, my girl. And I have heard very good things about him as well." When Adela merely nodded, he sighed. "You should probably go in search of Soris as well. His bride arrived last night, so we'll be having a double wedding." With a nod of obedience, and a quick kiss to her father's cheek, Adela left her home in search of her wayward cousin.

It did not take Adela long to locate her cousin. Soris, his red hair shining in the sunshine, his handsome face thoughtful, leaned against one of the piers holding up a decrepit porch. "Well, hello cousin," he greeted, his face brightening instantly as his favorite (and only) cousin stepped into the light before him, "Come to share one last moment of freedom before we jump off the pier?"

Giggling, Adela slid her arm through Soris', giving him a gentle shake. "Come on, Soris. Maybe it's not too late to run!"

"Ha!" There was no mirth in his tone, "And just where, dear cousin, would we run? To the Dalish?" His tone more than spoke sarcasm.

"Well, why not?" Adela stepped away, looking up into Soris' brown eyes. "Mamae was Dalish. Perhaps we could find her tribe…"

However, Soris was just shaking his head, immediately dismissing the idea, "Nope. We'll get lost. Or worst. And, I've no desire to find out what that 'worst' would be." He sighs. "Besides, why would you run? From what I've seen, your intended is a dream come true. Mine sounds like a dying mouse!"

False sympathy 'tsking' from her lips, Adela quipped, "I doubt she's that bad, Soris."

"Yeah, well, I suppose we should go and meet our fellow victims, eh?" With that, Soris grabbed Adela's hand, placing it on his arm, and all but dragged her to where their future spouses, and various wedding party members, waited.

Each step proved more difficult for Adela as they neared the small group standing under the platform where the ceremony would take place. Flowers and garlands decorated the stage as well as the Vhenadahl, the Tree of the People, and various surrounding porches and decks. Adela did smile at the effort her friends had put into making the setting as lovely as possible. She stopped, taking a deep breath. Soris stopped by her side, watching as his cousin composed herself, preparing herself for this next step in her life. Soris would never - ever - tell her this, but he had always looked up to her. She was always capable, always the one everyone turned to help settle a dispute or to simply lend a helping hand. Her community was very important to her. He knew the circumstances surrounding Adaia's death, and he had always felt that Adela had taken up her mantle, though with words and simple actions rather than bow and blade. In many ways, she was his hero. And he would never let her in on that fact. Therefore, he stood by her side, watching her compose herself. She glanced at him, a small smile turning up the corners of her lips. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, her eyes brightened, her smile widened, and she gripped her cousin's strong arm, pulling him toward the wedding party. A chuckle escaped Soris' lips as he stumbled along beside his cousin.

Shianni stood with Nola and several other women from the Alienage. He spotted Nelaros and Velora - his bride - standing slightly apart. Nola touched Shianni's arm and pointed toward the approaching groom and bride. Smiling broadly, both women raised hands in greeting as Shianni stepped forward toward her family.

Another party joined the group - this one composed of three human men. One man reached out and took hold of Nola's arm, pulling her forcefully into and against him as a hand reached over and around her waist. Nola screamed out a sharp "No! Let go of me!" as one of the elven men - Toran - stepped forward to pull her from the human's grasp. "Please, milords! This is a wedding!" the youth cried as he pulled Nola away. The human scowled deeply, striking the young man across the face, felling him easily. "Watch it, knife-ears! Or you'll feel much the same," he growled at the fallen man.

"Gentlemen, please, please…" the leader of the pack, a handsome young man with red hair and green eyes, almost purred. "This is a party." He leered openly at the women of the wedding party. "Grab a whore and have some fun!" His compatriots chuckled, one approaching Shianni, taking hold of her by the shoulders. The feisty redhead struggled, shrugging his hands off "Get off me, you son of a pig…"

"Now, now…' the redhead growled, "none of that. We're just here for some fun."

During this exchange, Adela and Soris had approached. Soris reached over, grabbing hold of Adela's arm. "Cousin, let's not get involved," he murmured, fear creeping into his voice.

Adela shot her cousin a sharp glance. "Don't get involved?" she breathed, incredulity in her voice. "How can we not be? That's Shianni and our friends. We cannot allow them to hurt anyone!"

Soris let out a frustrated sigh. He did not like where this was heading. "Fine, fine. But, let's try and be diplomatic about it," he responded, immediately wanting to kick himself. Telling Adela to be diplomatic? The girl was nothing if not diplomatic.

Adela was thinking along the same lines, judging from the hard, level look she bestowed upon her quivering cousin. She turned toward the others, and it was then the ringleader of the humans noticed her. His eyes - cold and hard as emeralds - brightened and softened just a bit, and the harsh lines around his eyes and mouth eased just a bit as he stepped toward the lovely elven woman.

"Ah, and what have we here?" he quipped, his voice softer as he spoke to Adela. A brief look of confusion crossed Adela's face as she took note of the change in demeanor. The redhead reached over and took the young woman's hand, bringing it up to his lips. "Such a lovely one," he murmured, kissing her hand. Behind him, his friends laughed.

Finding her voice, Adela replied, trying to keep her voice steady and free of fear, "Please, my lord. Perhaps you could take your party elsewhere. We are preparing for celebrations here…"

"You've a lot of nerve, knife-ears!" one of the others shouted at Adela. Nevertheless, the redhead merely shook his head, the smile never leaving his face. "Ah…but we, too, are preparing for celebrations," he bent down, his face mere inches from Adela's, "and you, my lovely one, are most certainly invited."

Adela was shaking her head at the tall man, trying to maintain a calm she knew the others needed her to. "But, my lord, we will not be able to accept such an invitation. Perhaps another time?"

The redhead chuckled, shaking his handsome head in the negative. "I do apologize, dear one, but our…my celebrations simply cannot wait for yours to conclude," he leaned closer, "I have watched you far too long to deny myself the…pleasure of your company any longer." The look that crossed his face was purely possessive, and it frightened Adela enough that she took a cautious step back.

It was then that a sharp 'crack' sound erupted, and the redhead standing over Adela slumped, unconscious, to the ground at her feet. Surprised, she looked up to see Shianni standing there, an amazed look upon her face and the fragments of a heavy wine bottle in her hand. Had the situation not been so dire, Adela would have laughed at the befuddled look upon her cousin's face.

"What have you done?" one of the humans demanded, he and his lone pal rushing forth. As he stooped to check on his fallen leader, the other said, "Do you know who this is? This is Vaughan Kendalls, the Arl of Denerim's son!" He moved to help his friend pick up the unconscious form of Vaughan.

Shaking herself, Adela stepped toward the two enraged humans, "Just…take him home. Get him cleaned up and tended to. Things got out of hand here, as I am certain we are all sorry. Just take this as a lesson that perhaps we elves will not always stand still to be victimized." Her voice was calm, almost soothing, but the humans would have none of it.

"You'll pay for this, you knife-eared bitch!" he sneered in Adela's face as he and his friend carried Vaughan from the Alienage.

A sudden trembling coursed through Adela, adrenaline and dread rushing throughout her limbs. Shianni slumped forward, her head hanging, fear clearly shining in her brown eyes. "I've really done it this time!" she all but wailed, certain she had doomed them all.

Leave it to Soris. "Don't worry, Sis. I doubt very much Vaughan and his cronies will want it getting out that he was taken down by an elven woman and her faithful bottle of wine!" Soris did not feel the bravado evident in his voice, but knew it was the only means to calm his volatile sister.

And, it worked, to some extent. Glancing down at her dress and hands, she whispered, "I should go….clean up." She looked up into Adela's face. "The wedding will be starting soon." and walked back toward their house.

A sharp hiss from behind her brought Adela's attention from Shianni's retreating back to Soris. With a heavy sigh (what else could go wrong?), she turned to face her cousin.

Soris grinned weakly at her, pointing toward the two elves - a man and a woman - that approached. "Don't look now, but our betrotheds are making their way over."

'Oh' she mouthed as she turned fully to watch their approach. The young woman was plain, with dark brown hair, too large ears, and light brown eyes. However, she had a pleasant expression and looked like someone more used to smiling than frowning.  _Just what Soris needed_ , she thought. Her attention was then drawn to the man, and she nearly caught her breath at his beauty. She chuckled to herself. Most men did not want to be called beautiful, but, unfortunately, with as attractive race as the elves were, more often than not, even the men were considered beautiful. And Nelaros was no exception. Short blonde hair tucked behind pointed ears, and piercing blue eyes sought her out and held her gaze. He was tall for an elf, and by his build, it was obvious that he knew the value of hard labor. The way he walked also suggested that he had received some warrior training, and that, more than his good looks, pleased Adela more than anything had. More than likely, this was a man who knew when to fight for those he cared for. She smiled as he approached, and was pleased when her smile was returned tenfold.

With a nervous clearing of his throat, Soris stepped to the new arrivals, taking his place beside the woman. "Cousin, this is Velora, my bride," both women nodded to each other, smiles plastered on their faces.

"So this," Adela turned to the man, "must be my husband to be?" She surprised herself at the slightly flirtatious quality her voice had taken on.

Nelaros did not miss the inflection, and grinned approvingly at the lovely woman before him, "I am lucky to be so warmly welcomed," he replied, a cheerful glint in his eyes. Adela found herself blushing under his scrutiny, and she found she enjoyed the sensation.  _Maybe this won't be so bad after all._

With those words, Soris and Velora stepped to the side, conversing in low tones as they tried to get to know each other just moments before they were to wed. Adela looked up at Nelaros, her breath catching in her throat at the intensity of his gaze.

"Nervous?" Nelaros asked, an obvious nervous catch in his voice.

Nervousness did course through Adela's small frame. She was pleased with what she had observed of Nelaros so far. He definitely made a good first impression. But the thought of what was to follow the wedding…"Yes, very much so." she answered honestly, looking up into his gem blue eyes.

They stood staring into each other's eyes for a moment, then, as one, they exhaled the nervous breaths and laughs they held. Grinning shyly at each other, they moved closed. Nelaros bent his head down, and placed a soft kiss on Adela's lips. As he moved away, a smile on his face, Adela bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "Glad we got that out of the way," Nelaros whispered as he took her hand, noting that it was trembling. Adela took comfort in the fact that his hand trembled as well.

She nodded, "It wouldn't do for our first kiss to be the one at the ceremony," she giggled.

Soris stepped back toward the pair, a concerned look on his face. "Cousin, we should let them get ready for the wedding," he prodded, nudging her shoulder with his. Taking her off from her betrothed, Adela shot Soris an irritated scowl. Her expression softened when she noticed the concerned look upon his face.

Nodding her agreement, she shot Nelaros another warm smile and he and Velora walked away toward the houses they were temporary housed in to prepare for the wedding.

She turned back to her cousin, noting that his face was taut, eyes fixed on a figure just beyond the Vhenadahl. Oh, wonderful! Another human. Rolling her eyes in frustration, she grasped Soris' arm, pulling him along with her. "Wha…what are you doing, Adela?" he gasped, trying to keep up with the smaller, quickly moving woman.

"We cannot afford another incident," she muttered. "We need to face this one off before things continue to spiral out of control."

Soris shook his head, "I thought you handled Vaughan the others well enough," he muttered. Nevertheless, Adela shook her head, "Perhaps, but Shianni's little braining incident can only cause more problems. Let's see if we can avert a problem peacefully for a change." Soris had no option but to be pulled along by the surprisingly strong elven woman.

Their target was an older human man, tall with a muscular build. Dark brown hair hung in a short ponytail in the back, and his face - creased with lines that betrayed hardship - sported a short beard. Fine silverite armor encased his form, and a sword and dagger were sheathed upon his back. He appeared calm, almost serene as he surveyed the Alienage. His expression turned quickly to intense interest as he spied the two elves walking with purpose in his direction.

"Hello. And blessings on this joyous day," he replied in a deep voice, bowing slightly to the pair as they approach.

Adela stopped, her pose immediately shifting from hostile to a calmer, more relaxed stance. "And, we thank you for your blessings," she replied politely, her eyes taking in the figure before her. He was obviously an accomplished warrior and she, being unarmed and unarmored, did not wish an incident. Still… "However, we need to ask that you lease the Alienage before any unpleasantness should occur." Her voice offered no quarter, almost a command. A dark brow quirked upwards at her words, and dark eyes skimmed swiftly over the diminutive form before him. He noted the relaxed stance, the frankness of the gaze leveled upon him. No fear showed in her eyes.  _So like her mother_ , he thought as he bowed slightly.

"And what unpleasantness do you refer to?" he asked quietly, continuing to scrutinize the young elf standing before him. He did not miss the nervous shift of feet on the male elf's part, and quickly ignored his presence, bestowing his full attention upon the woman.

Adela quickly stifled the urge to sneer - that would accomplish nothing. Making certain to maintain an impassive, calm demeanor, she replied, "Come now. A lone human making his way through the Alienage, during a time of celebration." she quirked a blonde brow at him, almost mimicking his prior expression. "There will be those who will see this as an invasion and may well cause some trouble. So, in the interest of avoiding such an issue, I ask, yet again, for you to leave."

"And if I refuse?" Was that humor she saw reflected in his eyes? She allowed her expression to hard some before responding, "Things may well get beyond my control." Voice was steady, although she was trembling inside, her stomach fighting a fluttering feeling that almost made her feel ill. Still, she could not back down. He had to leave.

"And I refuse yet again," damn that calm voice! "What now?"

Adela let out a steadying breath, "Surely we can compromise…"

"Ah, so the rumors of your bravery in the face of aggression are not exaggerated," the human responded, a pleased tone in his voice. It was then that Velendrian, the Alienage hahren - or elder - stepped forward. The human turned his attention to the old elf and said, "Facing an armed and armored human, and this young one shows no fear. A fine quality, would you not agree, old friend?"

Adela's eyes widened as the familiarly the human showed the elder. Velendrian replied, a smile on his wizened face, "Ah, yes, the world can certain use more who know when to stay their blades," and turned a proud smile upon the young woman.

Flushing slightly with embarrassment, Adela, turned to the human. "I apologize," she bowed respectfully; "I did not know what you were a friend of the hahren."

A chuckle escaped his lips as the human waved aside her apology. "No, I should be the one to apologize. I was hardly forthcoming." His smile widened and he bowed deeper to the young woman. "My name is Duncan of the Grey Wardens."

The eyes of both young elves widened. A Grey Warden! Here? However, before they could voice their questions, Velendrian turned to his friend with his own. "What brings you here, old friend?"

"I'm afraid the worse has happened, my friend," Duncan's demeanor turned serious immediately. "A Blight is coming and I am seeking recruits for the Wardens."

The trepidation was clear in the old elf's voice as he shot Adela a sad glance. "Ah, I had heard the rumors. And we understand," he bowed his head toward Adela, "that King Cailan has left for Ostagar to battle some darkness there." He turned back to Duncan. "However, we have a wedding - two in fact - to attend to this day, and I fear that rumors of Blight and darkspawn truly have no place during our time of celebration."

A frown briefly crossed Duncan's features, and he quickly stifled it. Bowing again, he said, "By all means. Attend to your celebrations. My task can wait until later." As these words left his mouth, he looked briefly at Adela, bowed again to the hahren, and turned to take a place to observe the platform. Confused by the exchange, Adela went moved toward the Grey Warden. Velendrian, however, caught her arm, shaking his head. "Children, you must take your places." And, with that, the elder walked toward the platform. Frowning at each other, the pair moved toward the stage and up the stairs. Adela glanced back to see Duncan watching her with great interest. Shaking her head, she took her place beside Nelaros. Smiling warmly, Nelaros grasped her slightly clammy hand in his own equally clammy one. Adela looked up, determined that any fears or concerns she had would ease away, and she would be pleased to continue with the traditions of her folk.

The priest, one of the few who would enter the Alienage, called Velendrian toward center stage. The elder expounded upon the elven community, how it stood together, and represented their freedom from the bonds of slavery. He was interrupted by shouts from off stage, which grew louder. Frowning deeply, the elder turned to view half dozen guardsmen - the Arl's guardsmen - flanked by Lord Vaughan and his two cronies from earlier. The priest stepped forward with a protest, "My lord!" She scolded, "This is a wedding!" To which the arrogant lord responded, "Oh come now, Mother. You can dress your pets up for any party, but don't presume to call this a proper wedding!" Vaughan's cold green eyes searched the stage, and a predatory smile creased his features as they fell upon the form of Adela. "We're having a party," he said with a laugh as he moved toward the blonde elf, "And, ah, we find ourselves short female guests." His friends laughed lewdly, leering openly at the women who stood with both bridal couples. Vaughan started pointing out the 'female guests' and then exclaimed, "And where's the bitch that bottled me?" Turning around at the sound of guffawing, he spied her. "Here she is, Vaughan!" one of his friends cried, grabbing hold of Shianni. Ever a spitfire, the elven woman struggled out of his grasp, only to be met with stronger hands than expected. "Oh…" Vaughan purred, "We'll have some fun taming her. But, let's see." he turned his attention back to Adela, the possessive look - one the spoke purely of ownership - back in his eyes as he approached her.

Nelaros put his hands on Adela's shoulders, trying to pull her behind him, "I won't let him touch you!" he fervently promised his bride, courage replacing his earlier nervousness, his eyes rising to boldly meet Vaughan's cold gaze.  _No fear_ , Adela realized.  _He would protect those he loves_. A warmth - pride - welled in her chest. Her father had indeed chosen well for her. "We can't let them take the others," she whispered back. Nelaros nodded, placing himself in front of her to block Vaughan's advancement.

"See the pretty bride," Vaughan murmured, all but ignoring Nelaros' presence. "You villain!" Nelaros exclaimed, moving to stand directly in front of the human lord. "You will not touch her!" Seeming to see him for the first time, Vaughan's eyes narrowed, utter hatred clear. "You truly think you can stop me, runt?" he all but roared, raising his hand and striking Nelaros to the ground. Nelaros scrambled back to his feet, but not as quickly as he would have liked. Vaughan had his hands on Adela and was pulling her towards him.

"Let the others go, my lord," Adela was saying in soft, soothing tones, quelling her own fears.

Looking deeply into her eyes, Vaughan sighed, "Then we wouldn't have our party, now, would we, my lovely one?" Nelaros surged forward, but one of the lord's guardsmen tackled the young elf, pressing him to the ground beneath his armored weight, striking him soundly in the face, briefly stunning him. Struggling against the stronger man, Nelaros could only watch as Adela tried, in vain, to reason with the human who held her too tightly. He saw something flash in Vaughan's eyes - and dread filled the young elf's heart. The lordling had come specifically for her, his bride. He knew that Adela did not know this man; when they had entered the Alienage earlier there was no doubt none of them knew who this man was. However, the lord obviously knew her - or knew of her. Nelaros realized, immediately, if he did not free her, he would never see her again. His struggles became more desperate, and he let out an anguished cry as one of Vaughan's men, tired of Adela's struggles and words, struck her sharply across the face, felling her, unconscious, to the stage floor. Vaughan rounded angrily upon his fellow, punching him square in the face, staggering him, and warned him if he ever placed his hands on her again, he would never live to regret it. The guard holding Nelaros down chuckled darkly as they watched Vaughan gently pick Adela up from the stage, and carry her away, the other women unwillingly towed along behind.

As the guard rose, he kicked Nelaros in the head, and he, too, fell into unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

Urgent hands shook his shoulder, an unfamiliar - no, vaguely familiar - voice calling his name. Then pain…Ah! His head! A sharp grimace crossed his handsome features as he rose, his hands encompassing his head. What? The hands on his shoulders retreated, and he more felt than saw the figure of another man crouch beside him.

"Nelaros!" that vaguely familiar voice - the man beside him - called. "Come on, get up!" he continued to encourage, hands once again reaching out to shake the man lucid.

Groaning, Nelaros brushed Soris' hands away, lifting his aching head from his hands. There was a crowd just beyond the platform -  _the marriage stage_ \- where he now sat. Wait! He stood anxiously, glancing about. "Where is Adela?" he demanded, rounding on Soris, who now stood beside him, his own face twisted with anxiety and fear. Just a look at the other man, who only shook his head at him, told him everything the groom needed to know.  _That damnable human took her!_

Without another word, with hardly a glance to his fellow groom, Nelaros all but stalked toward the angry crowd, more a mob than crowd. Soris rushed to his side, following tentatively as Nelaros pushed his way through to stand before Velendrian.

The elder was holding up his hands in a placating gesture, the human man (Nelaros had heard that a Grey Warden was in the Alienage and he could only presume this was he) standing calmly by his side. The human's dark eyes lit up with interest as Nelaros came to stand before the elder.

"Calmly, people," Velendrian was saying, his voice calm, but his eyes betraying concern.

"Calm!" a woman shouted from the crowds. "They took my sister!"

Other shouts mingled with hers, and the elder waited, letting them shout out their anger a bit before raising his voice slightly, "Shouting will not help anything. We must…"

"We must do  _nothing_!" a woman's bitter voice hissed through the din, capturing everyone's attention. It was Elva, her face twisted with scorn. "Let them have the girls! If we were to do anything we would all pay the price." She turned to cast a glare at Nelaros before adding, "What's the cost of a few women's  _virtue_ when compared to the good of the community?"

The elven man could barely believe his ears. Was this woman actually suggesting they allow those fiends to use their women in such a fashion? If they were in Highever, something like this would  _never_ have been allowed to happen! Before a coherent retort came to mind, Cyrion stepped forward, placing a hand upon the younger man's shoulder, and spoke, "Easy enough for you to say, Elva," the craftsman looked directly into the woman's eyes, "but were it you in their place, I am certain you would want someone to care enough for your wellbeing to come for you." Yes, Nelaros would be most proud to be part of the Tabris family. He looked over at Elva, who only sneered back at the older man.

"Well, perhaps if you were to call to the royal palace, your precious daughter could be found," she sneered, stepping forward, "Although we are all fairly certain that she has little virtue left…" she never finished that sentence, as Nelaros took a threatening step toward her, causing the woman to take an anxious step back. No one stood to defend the hateful woman, and Nelaros all but loomed over her.

"Watch your words, harpy!" he hissed, noting with satisfaction the color all but bleed from her face as she stepped further away and disappeared into the crowd.

Velendrian, who had been speaking quietly with Duncan, turned back, "I have heard of Vaughan's….appetites, and the interest he took specifically in Adela is more than enough for cause for concern. We cannot leave them there," There was determination, but almost resignation, in his voice. The elder truly did not believe anyone in the Alienage would volunteer to rescue the women.

He was pleasantly surprised when Nelaros stepped back, looking at the elder. "Show me the way to the Arl's estate, and I will get my bride and the other women back home."  _Safely_. There was such steady determination in his voice, such courage and concern in his eyes - Duncan continued his scrutiny of the young man _. If he succeeds, I may well leave the Alienage with two recruits._

Nelaros, noting Duncan's interest, spoke to the Grey Warden. "I understand, Ser, that you are a Grey Warden?" Duncan nodded. "Perhaps you could assist us?" He frowned as Duncan shook his head.

"I fear that my presence in such an undertaking would disavow our neutrality," he said, obvious regret in his voice. He said no more on that subject, but knew that not only could he not, as a Grey Warden, interfere, but, as a Grey Warden, he needed to know the potential of those he sought to recruit. If he assisted, how could he properly evaluate this young man and his bride as recruits into the order? A cold reality, yes, but a necessary one.

A scowl crossed the elven man's features, and Duncan held up his hand, "I can, however, offer you a sword," this he handed to Nelaros, "and my crossbow," this to Soris, who numbly accepted it.  _When had I agreed to help_? Soris wondered. Nelaros glanced at the sword, adjusting his grip on the weapon. His martial training would come in handy.

_Now, to get inside the palace…_

A soft, male voice called out, "Sers. I may have a way into the palace…"

DA:O

Adela awoke on a cold, stone floor, her hands tied tightly behind her. Her face stung from the slap the nobleman gave her, and her head ached. With a groan, she pushed herself up awkwardly, her bound hands hindering movement.

The room she found herself in was bare, save for a rug in the center of the floor and a bench pushed against one wall. There were no windows and only one door, locked, she would presume. And, she was alone.  _Where were the others_? She wondered, concern tightening in her chest.

The events of the day rushed at her like a heavy wave, her last memory that of Nelaros being beaten to the ground.  _Was he all right_? She worried, shaking her head. She had to get out of here, had to find the others…but…how? With her hands bound behind her, she couldn't even attempt picking the lock.

The sounds of the tumblers clicking in the lock drew her attention back to the door. Her breath came in tighter gasps as she watched Vaughan Kendalls, dressed in laced up breeches and an open necked linen shirt, a dagger sheathed at his hip, enter the room.

The nobleman carefully closed the door, locking it behind him. The key he placed in the pocket of his shirt. The smile that crossed his face - part predatory, part appreciation - almost tightened Adela's throat closed with fear. The look in his eyes said all there was to -  _She was his; he was not going to let her leave._

"Ah, my lovely one has awakened from her slumber," he murmured as he knelt before her, one hand reaching out to cup the injured side of her face. An angry scowl creased his face, "The fool has been punished for marring your lovely skin, my dear," he purred out this last, moving himself closer to the bound elf. Fear gripped Adela fully, but she swallowed it down, knowing that it would only hinder her escape, hinder her  _survival_ , and do nothing to aid her still missing friends.

"My lord," she whispered, her face tilted slightly away from his so that he could not see the paling of her face, "please, let us go." She then raised her intense blue eyes to his emerald pair, allowing a plea to show honestly there, hoping he would listen to reason. She stopped, clearly seeing that there would be no reasoning with this man. He had decided that she was his, and, as a noble, he was used to getting what he wanted. His next words only confirmed this.

"Ah, but my dearest one," both hands now cupped Adela's face and he brought his lips to brush against hers. She closed her eyes, uncertain what to do. "All this planning for us to be together would be for naught if I were to simply let you go." His voice had an almost playful scolding tone to it, and it caused her to shiver even more.

Still, she had to try; she had to try to get him to at least release the others. She was certain her own fate was sealed, but the others…"Then, then let the others go," she boldly met his eyes, feigning a confidence she did not feel. "If this was all for  _us_ to be together, surely the others have no place in your plans?"

Vaughan smirked, brushing his lips against hers again before answering, "What, then, amusement shall my guests enjoy if I were to do that?" He pulled away, the hold on her face tightening almost painfully. "I most certainly will not share you with them, or anyone else!" One hand moved to the back of her head, roughly grasping her, yanking her forward and against him. "Not even the king!" he growled this last in her ear as he stood, pulling her with him.

 _The king?_  "What?" the word was out of her mouth before she knew it.  _What did Cailan have to do with anything?_

Vaughan merely chuckled at his captive's confusion. "Come now, my love," his hands roamed along her back, capturing her bound hands and pulling them tightly against her back, pulling her more fully into the curve of his body. "Word has it that your visits to the royal palace are far more than merely delivering trinkets." His head dipped, his lips nuzzling against her neck. Her body stiffened at the contact, and she struggled against his hold. With a growl, he pushed her against the wall, holding her tight as his lips moved along her neck and throat, down to the small expanse of exposed shoulder and across her collarbone. "I promise you, you will find me a far more enjoyable lover…" he murmured against her skin.

Instinct took over. She had no idea what Vaughan was talking about with regards to the king, but she knew she would not get clarification from him. She struggled almost frantically, managing to free her legs from where Vaughan had pressed his hips against her, his leg between hers. He staggered slightly, allowing more space between them. A sharp cry escaped his lips as her knee connected with his groin, and he let her go. Stumbling away, cursing the skirt of her dress, Adela managed to pull her arms down and her legs through the loop of her arms. Though still bound, her hands now were in front of her.

Vaughan, however, had quickly recovered, and with a guttural growl, grabbed the young woman, flinging her hard against the wall. Almost snarling, he pressed his body against hers, imprisoning her hands between their bodies. "Now, now, my love," he growled, his hips pressing against her firmly, his body entrapping her effectively, "none of that." His mouth came down, hard, upon her lips, his tongue forcing entrance into her mouth. Knowing she had nothing to lose, she bit down on the offending organ. Hissing, pulling away, the nobleman brought up a hand and slapped her - hard - her head twisting away, the shock from the pain coursing down her face and neck, flowing out along her shoulders. "I had wanted to do this in a more…pleasant surrounding, in a room with a large bed," he explained as he pulled the skirts of her dress over her hips, maintaining the hold against her body. She could not move. "But, if you wish for our  _first_ coupling to be…aggressive, I shall accommodate your desires, my love." With that, he quickly unlaced his breeches, pushing her small clothes aside. Adela tried to push him away, but her hands were trapped in such a way between their bodies she could not get good leverage. Not against someone so much stronger than herself. A sob escaped her lips as she felt Vaughan's naked erection against her. With another growl - one full of lust and impatience - Vaughan lifted the small woman up, and with one push, entered her completely. An anguished cry escaped from her body as she felt her maidenhead break, and blood rushed down her thighs. Vaughan took note, and chuckled as he continued to thrust into his unwilling partner. "Well, well, well," he breathed into her ear, kissing the delicate organ, and then running his tongue along her lobe, "it would seem as though the rumors that you were the king's whore are untrue." He continued to thrust, his breathing becoming ragged, his kisses along her neck and ear more urgent. "I am your first, and only, it would seem." A ragged cry and his body jerked. He slowed his thrusts, bending his head into her neck, taking deep breaths, relaxing before continuing. He had watched her… _wanted_ her for so long. And now that he had her, he did not want their first coupling to end too soon.

Adela stifled her sobs, biting her bottom lip as Vaughan continued to assault her.  _Think past the pain,_  she told herself.  _Think_. With Vaughan's movements, her hands now had more freedom, and she flexed the stiff fingers, willing circulation and warmth to their tips. With a deep breath, she moved her hands downward, carefully taking hold of Vaughan's manhood. A chuckle rumbled against her ear, "Ah, so, my little one," he kissed her ear almost tenderly, "you  _do_ wish to enjoy our time together."  _If you only knew, you bastard_ , she thought vehemently. Moving her hands, she positioned her thumbs, cringing inwardly at the touch as he continued to move in and out of her. The fingernails on each thumb were longer and sharper than the others as she used these as tools in her artwork. Now, they would be put to another use. Bracing herself, she jabbed each thumbnail into the hard - and extremely sensitive - organ that moved in her - breaking the skin, sinking deeply into the flesh, blood oozing from each wound. Vaughan shouted in pain, dropping her to clutch at himself. Landing on her feet, she brought her bound hands up, swinging back and then, with all the strength she could muster, smashed her clenched, bound fists into Vaughan's face, splaying his regal nose across his face. Blood oozed from the broken appendage as he roared with pain and anger, grasping at the newest injury. Desperately, Adela swung her fists again, connecting with Vaughan's temple, felling him to the stone floor. Without thought, still moving on pure instinct, she lunged down, pulling the noble's dagger from its sheath, plunging it down into the man's chest. Yanking it free, she ignored the rush of blood that flowed from the wound, simply grasping the blade to her chest. Stumbling back, gasping for air, ignoring the blood on her hands and thighs, trying to ignore the pain from between her legs, the young elven woman, knelt down, searching Vaughan's pocket for the key to the door. Rising on shaky legs, she went to the door. Placing an ear against it, she listened, certain that the noise of their struggle would have been heard. Hearing nothing, she placed the key in the lock and exited the room.

Rushing through the estate with her hands bound would not have been her first choice, but instinct told her to get out of the room where Vaughan lay and to seek out the others. She pressed herself against the stone of the walls, blending into the shadows there as she held the bloody dagger close to her chest. Yes, she did hear something - soft footsteps, as though someone was trying to keep silent. Moving along the wall, she peeked around the corner. Relief flowed through her body as she spotted Soris, cautiously making his way down the hallway, a crossbow held tightly in his hands. She watched him turn and gesture back up the hall. Her initial relief was replaced with shear joy at seeing Nelaros, a bloody sword in hand, rush forward to join her cousin. With a sharp cry, the young woman left the shadows and ran toward the men.

Nelaros heard and saw her first, apprehension giving way to concerned relief at seeing his bride rushing to him. That relief changed quickly to anger as he noted her condition - her bloody and bound hands, the blood on her wedding dress - her  _torn_ wedding dress - the blood…Repressing the growl of anger that threatened to escape his lips, he pulled the sobbing woman into his arms, kissing the top of her head and whispering assurances to her as he rocked her gently.

"Where is he?" he asked, Soris continuing to peer up and down the hallway, alert for any intruder.

Taking a deep breath, brushing aside her tears, Adela motioned down the hall, saying, "He's either dead or near to. It doesn't matter - I don't care. We need to find the others!" Her voice, ragged from fear, was still strong with determination.  _Whatever happened can be dealt with later,_ she thought _, all that's important is getting to the others_.

Pushing her away a little, Nelaros tilted Adela's head upwards, gazing into her eyes. He saw strong determination there, an honest concern for her friends. Leaning down to place a soft kiss on her lips, Nelaros nodded his head. Gentle hands reached down and carefully untied her hands, rubbing them softly before releasing them. Free, Adela rubbed the circulation back into her hands, clutching the dagger tightly. Soris managed a weak smile to his cousin, and the trio sped off in search of Shianni, Velora and the other women. They just hoped they were not too late…

DA:O

Their progress through the Arl's estate was bloody and painful. They had managed to locate Shianni (brutalized by one of Vaughan's cronies) and the others (poor Nola had been killed when she tried to fight against one of the guards to whom she had been given as a reward). The trio of armed elves killed Vaughan's friends and many of the guards. The five unarmed women fearfully followed Adela and Nelaros, with Soris behind, his crossbow ready for discharge. As they approached the back entrance, several guardsmen, including the captain of the guard, moved to block their path.

"'Ey now, what have we here?" the captain snarled, his eyes narrowing at the elves. His eyes turned to Adela, a smirk crossing his lips, "Aren't you Lord Vaughan's bitch?"

With a cry of outrage, Nelaros lunged forward, his sword leading. The captain snarled back, rushing forward to meet the enraged elf. Adela pushed the women back, motioning to Soris to start firing, and she, too, jumped into the fray. Spinning and ducking, dipping down, and lunging out, the elven woman called upon her years of training at the side of her mother, as well as her own continued practice after her mother's death. Adaia had taught her well, and many of the guards fell, their throats sliced or backs pierced by the sharp blade. Soris' bolts found the backs and chests of others and they, too, fell before the onslaught of enraged elves.

Nelaros fought hard and with skill against the heavily armed and armored human. He managed to parry and duck many of the captain's strikes with his great sword, the elf's long sword darting in to sting and then retreat back, seeking other openings. The human was tiring far quicker than the agile elf, who dodged, and ducked, thrust out and nipped at the man. With a final twist and turn, Nelaros spun about, bringing his sword up, nearly cleaving the man's head from his shoulders. As the captain's body fell heavily to the ground, the sound of a "click" and "twang" from a crossbow could be heard. Nelaros stiffened suddenly, a crossbow bolt driving deeply into his chest. With an anguished cry, Adela spun about, locating the enemy, and without a second thought threw her dagger at the man. The blade found its mark, driving deeply into his throat. With a gurgle, the man dropped his weapon and clutched at his throat, blood pouring from the wound as he slumped to the ground. It took many minutes for him to die.

Crying out his name, Adela fell to the ground beside her betrothed, tears running down her cheeks.  _No, no, no…_ she thought _. Not when I could see a future here_. A blood stained hand raised up to lightly brush the tears from her cheek.

"Adela, don't cry," Nelaros pleaded weakly. Her very blue eyes met his, and he reached into a pocket, pulled out the ring he was to give her at their wedding: a gold band, etched with leaves and grapes - an ancient elven blessing for a fruitful, happy union. Nelaros smiled at her, one hand on her cheek moving to encourage her to bend her head to his, raising up slightly to kiss her. "I am sorry, love," he coughed weakly, slipping the ring on her finger. "I had hoped to make myself worthy of you and your love."

Adela shook her head, bending down to kiss him again, whispering, "You already did, Nelaros, my  _husband_. You already did." And, smiling at her words, the gem blue eyes of Nelaros closed, his body relaxed as she held him. A sob slipped past her lips, Adela brushed back his blonde hair, fingertips lightly brushing along his warm forehead absently. Her head still bent, she took in a deep breath.  _They had to leave._ With a final kiss to his lips, Adela rose.

Without a word, she went over to the dead crossbowman and viciously yanked the dagger from his throat. Stepping back to her fallen fiancé, she bent and picked up the sword Duncan had lent him for the rescue. Whispering a faint goodbye, she looked up and motioned for the others to follow. Quietly, with no other obstacles, the sad group of elves left the estate and, keeping well to the shadows, avoiding all guards and other citizens, made their quiet way back to the Alienage.

DA:O

They entered the Alienage to find Velendrian, Duncan and Cyrion waiting anxiously nearby. Duncan, being the first to spy the ragged band's entrance, placed a calming hand on Cyrion's shoulder, gesturing. The trio watched the approach of the group. Adela told Velora and the other women to take Shianni back to the house, and she and Soris stepped toward the three older men.

"What happened?" Cyrion asked, his voice heavy with concern as he pulled his daughter into his arms. Soris could not find his voice and merely shook his head, hanging it in sorrow. Adela took a deep breath.

"Lord Vaughan and his…friends are…dead," she looked up into her father's eyes, tears threatening to spill. "Nola was killed when she fought against a guard. Nelaros was killed during our escape." Cyrion's head bowed in grief, pulling his daughter back into his arms, placing a cheek on the top of her head.

Velendrian turned to Soris. "Soris?" The young elven man looked up, but could only shake his head.

"We had no choice," Adela's voice was stronger than expected, her eyes clear, as she pulled herself from her father's embrace to stand straight before the elder. "They harmed us, and we fought in self defense." Her eyes practically blazed. "We did as we must to survive."

The elder was taken aback. Normally Adela was one to talk down a potentially violent situation. For her to say, with no regret in her voice, that the killing was necessary…he believed her. He glanced over at Duncan, and saw stark approval in those dark brown eyes. Velendrian frowned, looking back at the girl. Either way, he knew, they were going to lose her. A thought came to mind, and he spoke it. "What about going to the Queen?" he asked the girl. Adela shook her head as the elder continued. "Come now, Adela. You are her friend; she will protect you."

"Protect me?" Adela questioned. "No. I won't do it. We defended ourselves. I'll not run…"

"Where is the Velendrian, elder and administrator to this Alienage?" a strong voice called out from the gates, interrupting what Adela was about to say. Turning, the elves and Grey Warden noted the advancement of the Captain of the City Guard, flanked by half dozen of his men.

With a heavy sigh, Velendrian stepped forward, "I am here, Captain."

The captain frowned. "The Arl's palace has a river of blood from one end to the other. None know if the Arl's son will survive the vicious assault upon him." He glared at all the elves before him. Soris started to tremble with fear, and Adela had a sick feeling in her stomach, threatening to overcome her. "I want answers, Elder, and I want them…"

"I did it," Adela stepped forward, her voice strong despite the fear she felt. Soris' startled eyes sought hers, begging her to step back and  _be quiet_.

The Captain scoffed. "You truly expect me to believe that one woman - one small, elven woman - did all that damage?"

Velendrian glanced briefly at the girl, pride straightening his back, "We are not all as helpless as many believe us to be, Captain."

The captain merely glared at the elder before turning his attention back to Adela. "While I do not envy your fate, girl, I admire your courage." He stepped toward her, looking her directly in the eye. "Your coming forward will save your people a lot of trouble." He turned to his men. "Take her to Fort Drakin, men." Adela raised her head, her stomach threatening to purge.  _Fort Drakon_? She knew her life was at an end. Looking over at Soris, she realized,  _so be it_. Her people would be safe, that was all that mattered.

As the guards moved to take Adela into custody, Duncan raised a hand to catch the Captain's attention. "Captain, a moment if I may?"

Irritated, the captain glanced over at the other man, "What is it, Grey Warden? As you can see, we have the matter well in hand…"

Duncan interrupted him, saying, "Be that as it may, I hereby conscript this young woman into the Grey Wardens. You may not take  _my_ recruit into custody."

"Son of a tied down…" the Captain growled. "Fine! I cannot challenge your right, Grey Warden, but I will have to insist that you get this elf out of the city before night fall."

Duncan bowed his head in consent as the captain turned back to his men. "Alright, change of plans, men! I want all available men to patrol the streets. Once word of this gets out, there will be trouble." And, without a glance back to the Grey Warden or the elves, the city guardsmen took their leave of the Alienage. The captain sputtering the entire time about Wardens and elves.

The elves watched the guards leave in stunned silence. Duncan turned to the girl and said, "Gather your things. We must leave immediately." Adela raised her eyes to Duncan's, and he was yet again stunned by her resemblance to her mother. "I…I thank you for helping me. But," she gestured to the Alienage as a whole, "what will happen here? I cannot simply leave everyone…"

But Duncan cut her off. "I needed recruits for the Grey Wardens, and I found you. That it happens to save your life is irrelevant." He stepped closer, looking down at the smaller elf. "You must understand that there is something happening out there that is larger than anything happening here."

A frown deepened upon Adela's face, "Be that as it may," she nearly spat, the tensions of the day wearing on her, "no one else cares about what happens here, so someone has to!"

 _Indeed, so like Adaia_. Duncan shook his head, placing a calming hand on her shoulder. "Adela, if the Blight is allowed to go unchecked, it will affect those here as well." His intense dark eyes held her own. "We need people of skill, courage, determination. You did what had to be done in order to survive and rescue your friends." In a gentler tone he continued. "I am sorry for the death of your betrothed. He was a good and skilled man, passionate, fiery. He, too, would have been worthy of becoming a Warden."

Tears shimmered in her eyes, Adela nodded. "I understand. I…I will gather my belongings and meet you back here." And, without another word, she left the Grey Warden and elder, Soris taking his usual place by her side as they walked back to their home.

Just as they reached the front door, Soris stopped. "Adela?" Soris tried to get her attention. "I just want to say…heck!" He stopped, grabbing hold of his cousin (he did not notice her slight flinch) and pulled her into his arms. "Thank you, for back there. For taking the full responsibility. For…" he blushed, looking into Adela's astonished face. "For always being my hero." He grinned at Adela's snort, and continued. "You've always done the right thing. Always. You never questioned your course, and always seemed to know what to do. Well," he cleared his throat, releasing his cousin. "I'm going to take a page out of your book. I'm going to settle down with Velora. She…she may not be gorgeous, but she's good and kind and has a good head on her shoulders. She has plans for the Alienage." he broke off, suddenly embarrassed and ashamed. Here he was talking about marrying Velora when the body of Adela's betrothed lay cooling in the Arl's mansion. He nearly jumped when he felt Adela's hand pat his cheek. "It's okay, Soris," she encouraged. "Be happy." And, with that, she turned, opened the door, and entered her home.

Velora met her at the door, thanking her profusely for helping her. After promising to take care of Soris, she left her alone with Shianni.

The red haired elven woman was in bad shape. Apparently, Vaughan had beaten her prior to his visit to Adela. Her whole face was a mass of swelling bruises and bloody cuts. Adela knew that there were other wounds - unseen wounds - that her younger cousin would need to deal with. "I'm sorry, Shianni," she whispered when the two women were alone. Shianni looked up at her cousin, confusion evident on her face.

"Why are you apologizing?" she asked, rubbing a hand up and down Adela's arm. She was certain that Vaughan had assaulted her elder cousin, but had not asked and would not. Adela shook her head, pulling Shianni into a tight embrace. Whispering still, she replied, "Vaughan had been watching me, for how long, who knows? He came here for me. And the rest of you…" a soft sob and Adela buried her face into Shianni's neck. But, the redhead would not hear of it. "No," she scolded firmly, shaking Adela. "No! I will not let you take the blame for that pig! He caused the pain, the suffering. You are just as much a victim of that…that shem as we all are." Shianni placed a hand to Adela's cheek. "Cousin! I saw you! You charged into the room, your eyes blazing with fire, justice guiding your blade! You saved us!" Shianni kissed her on the cheek. "And I will always be grateful to you for it. You are amazing. We are all proud of you. We always have been."

Sighing, Adela stood straighter, gazing into her cousin's brown eyes. "I have to go." Simple statement. Shianni frowned. "Why?" Simpler question. A harsh laugh, something no one had ever heard from Adela. "I've been conscripted into the Grey Wardens."

Shianni shook her head. "You? A Grey Warden?" She seemed to think about it for a moment, and then her poor, battered face split in a grin. "You know, as crazy as that may sound, it's really not so crazy an idea." With a laugh, she pulled Adela into a tight hug, "I love you, Cousin. They'll be writing books about you, you know?"

"You're crazy, cousin," Adela retorted, hugging Shianni back just as tightly.

Shianni helped Adela gather her things. As they did so, Cyrion stepped into the room, a cloth wrapped bundle in his arms. "Adela, here is something…something that belonged to your mother. I know she'd want you to have it." With these words, he placed the bundle in her hands. Frowning, Adela moved to her bed, placing the bundle down and unwrapped it. There lay several pieces of leather armor. Cyrion spoke again, "This is a quality Dalish armor. Your mother wore it during the Rebellion." Adela looked up, her eyes wide. "I've no doubt it will be too large for you, but find someone who works in leather and they can adjust it to your size." Then, with a cry, the man pulled his daughter into his arms, wrapping her tightly, knowing she was going off into more danger, away from home.  _But she couldn't even be safe here_ , he reminded himself. Sighing, he disengaged the hug. "Don't forget to stop by your mother's cache and retrieve her bow and blades," he offered to Adela. "I'm certain Duncan would not mind the brief stop." Adela nodded, rewrapping the armor and placing it in her backpack. With a final sigh, she turned to her father. "I love you, Papa," she said, gazing into his blue eyes. "And I love you too, dear heart."

A final hug and Adela left her home.

Then, by Duncan's side, the pair left the Alienage, and then the city of Denerim. After a brief stop to retrieve her mother's equipment, the pair headed Southward, toward Ostagar, and the waiting darkspawn hoard.


	5. Chapter 5

_We are making good time_ , Duncan thought, looking over at his elven recruit. The young woman soldiered on gamely, never offering a complaint, but always open to suggestion and even offering her own. Duncan's initial surprise by how much like her mother she was had shifted a bit. Yes, she had many of Adaia's strengths, but she seemed bereft of the many weaknesses the overly proud Dalish warrior had. _Perhaps that's Cyrion's influence_ , the Warden considered. He had been most impressed by how quickly she had rebounded from the trauma of just a couple of weeks ago. He did not know all of the details of what exactly had happened in the Arl's estate, but from the haggard and beleaguered appearance and demeanor of the surviving elves, he was certain it had not been pleasant. Oh, he knew the girl was not completely recovered - there was a sadness and pain that lingered in her eyes, especially when she thought she was unobserved. He hoped she would find someone she could talk to about what had happened. Too often than not, leaving such things unsaid only caused festering wounds on the soul and psyche, and Duncan felt that this girl was far too special to allow that to happen.

He glanced back again, watching as the girl shifted her pack and continued walking. They had opportunity to stop at a farmstead the night prior, and the kindly farmer and his wife had offered up a hot bath for the pair. The couple had been uncertain as to the relationship between their guests, and Duncan recalled the horrified expression that came upon Adela's face when the wife tentatively asked if they would mind sleeping in separate rooms. He chuckled now as he recalled how Adela had firmly advised the goodwife that separate rooms were, indeed, acceptable.

Adela glanced up from the ground, her right eyebrow rising in query.  _A most decidedly Adaia expression_ , Duncan acknowledged, still chuckling.

"Are you going to tell me what you are laughing at," Adela asked as she hurried to Duncan's side, glancing up into his face, a hand shielding her eyes from the sun, "or shall I simply presume you are laughing at me - still - and leave it at that?" As she said the words, the corners of her mouth lifted in a near smile, but the amusement was plain to see in her eyes. Duncan allowed an open smile. In the past two weeks of traveling together, the pair had gotten to know each other relatively well. Adela, who was normally shy, especially around people she only recently met, had become far more open and candid. And Duncan found himself enjoying the young woman's company greatly. He realized he had not smiled so much in the past couple of years as he had during these past few weeks _._

That same smile on his rugged face, Duncan bowed his head slightly, admitting, "I was, indeed, still chuckling about the bedroom incident." He watched as Adela shook her head, and laughed harder as she mouthed "Infant". To save face, Duncan then said, "I knew your mother," he waited for the girl's reaction. Deep interest clouded her eyes, and her face lit with genuine curiosity. "I had even tried to recruit her into the Grey Wardens - several times, in fact."

"Oh?" the girl asked, "And why did she not join?"

Duncan shrugged, the movement adjusting his own backpack. "She really had no use for us, I'm afraid." His lips quirked at the memory of the Dalish warrior woman, defiance smeared across her face, her bow slung almost carelessly across her back, hands on hips, as she firmly told Duncan that he and the rest of his group could well find Arlathan itself before she would ever join, even if they so much as _thought_ to use the Right of Conscription. Despite her obvious dislike for the order - and humans on the whole - Adaia had been one of the most honorable and likeable women he had ever met. She told the truth - as she saw it - and allowed you to disagree. But, if you tried to tell her she was wrong…well, those conversations never ended well. And, she was extremely opinionated. The memory of an argument between the elven woman and Loghain came to mind and he shook his head at the remembrance of it. The two could almost go nose to nose, and neither backed down from their conviction.  _The problem with those two,_ Duncan thought _, was that they thought too much alike, and never realized that, on the whole, they had actually agreed with one another._

Adela watched Duncan's face as it softened in memory. "Did you know her well?" she asked, pulling the Grey Warden from his revelries. Her question was met with an almost sad smile, "Did anyone really know Adaia Maheriel?" He asked, sighing, with a slight shrug. "Your mother was complicated. She disliked humans immensely, yet fought beside Maric, Rowan and Loghain against the Orlesians. She hated cities, yet ended up marrying an elven man from an Alienage and raised a fine daughter." He bowed to the girl. "She felt that those too weak or lazy to defend themselves had no place upon the world, and yet she defended the elves of the Alienage with an almost religious fervor, and died because of it." He looked back at Adela's face, and knew he had her full attention. "And she hated my order, almost passionately. Yet, she was always friendly to me - when I wasn't trying to recruit her." He smiled again.

"Why would she hate an order such as the Grey Wardens?" Adela simply had to ask.

A long sigh and then Duncan replied, "Mostly, she had secrecy. Always honest and upfront herself, she felt that my order was far too secretive, and in her mind, that meant untrustworthy." A slight shrug and he looked back at his companions. "I am glad that her prejudices did not get passed down to you, Adela. You have her passion, but also your father's good sense and compassion. You have the best qualities of both people, and that makes you unique in this world. The true qualities of a leader."

Intrigued, Adela asked, "How so, Duncan?"

"Ha," he chuckled, "How about you answer a question for me?" His dark gaze held Adela's, and she found its intensity unnerving. Clearing her throat (why was she suddenly nervous?) she replied with a simple "Yes". Duncan paused, not quite certain how to pose his question, or if even the girl knew the answer. "When the discussion of punishment came up back at the Alienage, before the guards arrived, Velendrian suggested you go to the Queen, that she may protect you," Adela nodded, "Why did you refuse?" He studied her face carefully. "After all, the Queen most certainly could protect you and, from what I had heard, you and she are quite close."

A frown marred Adela's lovely face, and she turned her face away from Duncan as she searched for her answer, biting her lower lip. Duncan waited patiently, allowing the girl to fully understand her reason before she had to voice them to another. He suspected he knew the answer, as one of the few who knew of Maric's broken promise to the girl's mother. He wanted to reach over the pull the lip she was savaging from between her teeth, but decided that would be a too familiar action, and decided they did not know each other nearly well enough for such.  _Although I feel as though I have known this girl all her life._

He broke from his thoughts as Adela cleared her throat, clearly ready to answer his question. "Well, you see, Anora and Cailan have both been working hard on changing the laws regarding elves and their status in Fereldan," she started. Duncan nodded, not saying a word. "They have met with a great deal of resistance from the nobles."

"They told you this?" Duncan asked quietly.

Tipping her head side to side, biting at the inside of her cheek, Adela shrugged her shoulders, "Cailan mentioned once a great deal of frustration with the nobles on the issue, but neither really came right out and said anything. It was Loghain who made a point of making it a topic after dinner one night."

"Oh? Loghain?" Duncan's interest was piqued.

She offered the commander a lopsided grin, remembering the events of that night. "It was shortly after a Landsmeet, and Anora and Cailan, as they normally did, invited me over for dinner once all the nobles had left for their respective estates."

"They did this often?"

She nodded, "Oh yes. Anora told me that she and Cailan found that my company after having to deal with stubborn nobles who felt they were far more entitled than anyone else to have a calming effect on them. Cailan even joked that it had the same effect on Loghain, although," she chuckled, "I highly doubt that." She shifted her pack again as they continued to walk, Duncan's attention still on her as she told him of that night. "We were just settling down in one of the smaller dining rooms in the palace, food laid out in a buffet style…Anora did that mostly for me. She knew I felt strange having elves wait upon me, and many of the servants at the palace are elves…"

_The night had been unusually warm, and both Anora and Cailan were visibly upset by the turn of events at the Landsmeet. Their presentation of a bill to amend the laws regarding elves had met, yet again, with strong residence in the Landsmeet. Cailan had all but stormed from the proceedings, leaving Anora to calm frayed nerves and insulted egos. She understood his frustration - she had shared it as well. But, it did not do well to simply walk out of talks. They needed the nobles consent if the bill was to work, they could not simply mandate it and expect it to be followed. They decided to call an early break and the nobles left for the night. Adela knew of these events because Cailan made a point of sulking about it (yes, sulking. And she teased him about it as well, to which the king merely rolled his eyes at her). Loghain's scowl was deeper than usual, and Anora could not find it within her to properly entertain her friend._

_Frowning, Adela poked the queen with her fork, hoping for some reaction. All she received was a cold glare. Both brows rose at this, and then Anora's icy countenance broke, and a heavy sigh escaped her lips. "I am sorry, Adela," the queen reached over and squeezed her friend's arm, "I fear we are all poor hosts this evening."_

_The elven girl merely shrugged. "Well, at least I'm not Teryna Cousland, so you really don't need to worry about being polite."_

_Loghain's head snapped up, "Don't," he scolded, raising a finger as though Adela were an impetuous child. "That's just the thinking those fool nobles encourage, and I'll not hear it from you, Adela Maherial Tabris!"_

_Anora and Cailan gaped openly at Loghain's outburst. He had never spoken in such a tone to Adela. For her part, Adela merely stared at the Teryn for a moment, her deeper than night blue eyes staring into Loghain's paler orbs. Then, with a slight nod of her head, she replied, "Understood, Teryn Loghain. I was, however, merely offering a joke…"_

_A sharp sputter of air - not quite a sigh - escaped Loghain's lips. "Be that as it may, young Adela, never think yourself below those who would want you to believe so." His gaze was penetrating, holding the young elven woman in place. "You come from a proud and noble line, regardless of race. Your mother once told me that the Maherial line was royalty among the Dalish. And, knowing your mother, I believe it." He bent down to his food, lifting his eyes, offering a slight quirk of his brow as he lifted a forkful to his mouth._

_Cailan, feeling the tension ease slightly, turned his attention back to his plate, but Anora sat staring at her father for a few moments longer._

_When dinner was over, the diners went to a sitting room, where Anora and Adela discussed their gardens and new orders Adela and her father had received, and Cailan and Loghain merely sat, keeping the women company, injecting advice or other comments into the conversations. As the visit grew to a close, Loghain offered to escort Adela to the front gates. After a brief exchange of confused glances, Anora hugged Adela good bye just before Cailan pulled her into his arms for a hug as well. Anora rolled her eyes at her husband, playfully swatting his arm. Adela had to grin. Anora seldom openly displayed affection for anyone and she felt honored that the queen considered her a good enough friend to trust with these "lapses"._

_Loghain took the young woman's arm and led her from the room, and out to the gates. The guards there bowed respectfully to the Teryn and, at his nod, moved away from the pair. Never releasing his hold on her arm, Loghain turned Adela to face him._

_She turned her eyes up to look into the Teryn's face. His face somehow seemed softer in the darkness, and she felt a little flustered at the attention he was showing her this evening. "Adela," he started, "How much do you know of your mother's history with Maric, Rowan and myself?"_

_She frowned at the unexpected question. She knew her mother had fought beside both men and the former queen during the rebellion. She also knew that her mother had been very angry with King Maric, but had never known the reason. Recalling the night Loghain had found her and brought her mother's lifeless body to the palace, she realized that there was something more than a comrades in arms relationship between them. Frowning, she returned her gaze back to Loghain, her frown telling him all he needed to know. "We were friends, Adela. She saved Maric on numerous occasions, Rowan a few, and me, well, let's say that while she did not save my life by strength of arms, she did save it by strength of heart and convictions." He sighed. "We all owed her a great deal, and her name is never even mentioned in any history books." He frowned, his gaze shifting to the heavens above them. "Not that she would want it to be," he muttered, looking down at Adaia's daughter. "With all she had done for us, she only ever asked for one thing, one promise that has yet to be fulfilled." His eyes, sharp and piercing, turned back to the girl he continued to hold at arms length. "All she ever asked for was that the elves of Fereldan be treated like the people that they were." He let go of his hold, crossing his arms, and turning his back facing the palace. Adela did not see the array of emotions that crossed his face, but his stance was straight, showing a great deal of discomfort. He looked back over at her, frown back in place. "Cailan and Anora strive to fulfill that promise made by Maric all those years ago. And the nobles still refuse to see that elves have been of great assistance to this nation time and again! Had the laws been changed when Maric promised…" his head bowed, "your mother would yet still draw breath."_

_Shaken, unsure how to respond, Adela stood before the gates, the warm breeze ruffling her hair. So, she reached forward and placed a small hand upon Loghain's arm, squeezing it a bit. The man looked down at the small hand, so graceful, smooth and perfect. Sighing, he placed a larger paw over it, and turned back to the girl._

" _That's why Anora and Cailan strive so hard for the passage of the new bill?" she asked, understanding at last what Loghain was telling her, "To fulfill the promise Maric never did?"_

" _Partly," he acknowledged. "Not fulfilling that promise, coupled with Adaia's violent death, also prompted Maric to take great interest in your life. He felt guilty. I had still maintained contact with your mother over the years, but she never truly trusted us again." He frowned, looking down at the hand that covered hers. "The more time that passed, the more she figured that we would never uphold our promise, and she would continue to fight for and protect the elves that were not her clan, who were weaker than she and who had given up hope long ago." He lifted Adela's hand in his own, turning the palm over, and lightly kissed the palm. A tingle ran up her arm, and she gaped at the man who had never shown any kind of affection for her before. She realized discussing her mother had a strong emotional impact on him, and she wondered about that as well. "Cailan took an immediate liking to you and did not know of his father's broken promise until he and Anora were wed." He shrugged at the question in Adela's eyes, "Anora knew of it. And she told him."_

_Adela bowed her head. Was Loghain trying to tell her that the royals' friendship with her was out of some sense of guilt? She looked up, Loghain's eyes holding a sense of openness she had never seen there before. No, she realized. He was trying to make her see how hard the king and queen were fighting for this; how hard he would fight for it. To fulfill a broken promise. She nodded, smiling at the Teryn, the legend, who seemed to be standing before her asking for her forgiveness. None was needed, as far as she was concerned. Loghain still held her hand, and she used that leverage and stood on her tiptoes, placing a soft, chaste kiss on his cheek. With a whispered "Good night" she turned and left the palace grounds. Loghain watched as she melted into the shadows, his hand going to a pocket wherein lay the stylized halla figurine the girl had carved just a couple of years earlier._

Duncan remained silent as she spoke. So, Loghain had told her of the promise Maric had been unable to fulfill? Duncan found that interesting. Looking at his companion, he asked, "So, this is why you refused to go to the queen for assistance?" He wasn't sure he completely saw the connection, but had his own thoughts and wanted to see how close on target he was.

With a nod of her head, the girl replied, "If I were to beg the queen and king for sanctuary, how would the nobles take that? As some knife-ear" Duncan scowled at the term "using her influence over the royals to protect her, even though she blatantly broke the law. Apparently there were enough rumors going around regarding our relationship," she shivered at the memory of Vaughan's outburst regarding Cailan, "and I do not want my crimes to affect the rest of my people. As it is," she looked up at Duncan, her eyes betraying a slight annoyance at him, " _your_ conscription of me into the Wardens may have repercussions for them in court, but I'm not savvy to politics that I could well be wrong." She shrugged her slender shoulders. "I just did not want any questions raised. I committed a crime, in self defense, yes. I do have to question and wonder if we really needed to kill all of those guards?" she shrugged again, this time causing her pack to shift uncomfortably on her back. "I don't ever want anyone to think that I would hide behind my friendship to the king and queen and think I can get away with something because of it."

Duncan walked quietly by her side for several minutes, and then nodded. "Understandable." He grinned down at the lovely elven woman. "You still seek to protect your people. Very worthy. But, remember Adela," his voice turned stern, "As a Grey Warden, everyone is now your people, we make no distinction between race or class, noble or commoner, mage or warrior. Among the Wardens you are not an elf; you will always be a Grey Warden first."

She snorted, "Well, make sure the rest of the world has the new rules, will you? If I hear 'knife ears' one more time…" she chuckled, her expression softening as she tilted her head upwards to look Duncan in the eye (Duncan noticed that she always seemed intent to look people in the eye, another good quality). "But, it's good to know, Duncan. Very good to know." She grinned up at him. "So, tell me about some of the other Wardens."

Duncan's chuckled rose, "Well, there is one Warden, just a few years older than yourself, who is our junior warden. His name is Alistair." An affectionate look crossed his eyes. "I think you will like him. He has a…quirky sense of humor, is a rather self-deprecating lad. And, oh, yes," he smirked, "he has an unholy love of all things cheese."

"Cheese?" the young elven woman asked, her right brow rising as a slight laugh hitched her voice.

Nodding, Duncan said, "Yes, any cheese really. I have no idea how he came up with such an obsession, but the rest of the Wardens have taken to piling their plate with cheese immediately before the boy can get his hands on it."

Adela faced forward, an amused expression on her face. "Cheese, huh?" She looked back up, "Anything else you can tell me? Such as, am I a Grey Warden now or do I need to pass some sort of a test?"

She did not notice the darkening of Duncan's face. The man felt an uncomfortable twinge in his stomach. He liked the girl; she was the daughter of a very old friend, and he hated lying - by omission - to her. The lass was nothing short of entirely open and honest ( _Alistair will love her_ ), and he felt badly that, in this, he could not offer the same. However, "There is the joining, the ritual that makes a Grey Warden," he began, but raised a hand to her next question, "It is kept secret, and for good reason. I won't be able to tell you about it until the time of the joining."

"Oh," was all she said as she glanced up at the setting sun. "Well, okay, I understand, I guess. Is there anything you can tell me?" she prompted.

Looking at her profile, Duncan replied, "The sun will be setting in a couple of hours and I know of a spot to set up camp," he stifled a laugh at the girl's annoyed expression. "I am sorry, Adela. There are many things I do need to tell you, but only…"

"…after the joining," the girl finished. With a wave of her hand, she grumbled, "Fine, fine. Keep your secrets, silly Warden. I'll find them out when I  _pass_ the joining."

With an exaggerated flounce, Adela quickened her pace, casting back to Duncan a contrived look of superior annoyance before skipping ahead. Duncan rolled his eyes and smiled at the elf's antics.  _I have no doubt you will pass_ , he thought as the sun continued its westward journey toward sunset.

DA:O

The flickering light from the campfire illuminated the small camp, creating shadows that moved just beyond the perimeter. The tents Duncan had acquired prior to leaving Denerim were set up at one end, and the smell of conies sizzling over the fire reminded Duncan - even more than his grumbling stomach - that he had not eaten since earlier in the day. Stepping into the lit center of their camp, Duncan watched as Adela turned the spit the four small rabbits were strung upon, watching the crackling and sputtering skins spit grease, dripping into the flames. Shaking his head, he sat down on the log behind the girl. Although he was pleased that they were be eating fresh food instead of the rations they had been eating these past couple of weeks.

"Now, who would have thought a city girl such as yourself knew how to hunt?" he teased, unbuckling the silverite breast plate he wore. With a heavy sigh, he removed the armor, rubbing his hands over the soft cotton shift he wore beneath.

"Heh…" Adela's response was more sound than word as Duncan's comment broke her from her thoughts, "Do you really think Adaia Mahariel would allow her daughter to reach age ten without knowing how to care for herself in the wilderness?" her voice rose slightly in affected pique. "Really?" She looked back over her shoulder to the older man. With a small giggle, she continued, "I actually love to hunt. It's the skinning and cleaning part I hate. Had you not disappeared to wherever you went…" she gestured vaguely in the direction he came from, "you would have been given that delightful task."

Raising his hands in mock surrender, Duncan replied, a chuckle in his voice, "Alright, alright. I doubt Adaia could tolerate her daughter being reared without some common knowledge of survival techniques." He watched as the girl nodded her consent, turning her gaze back to the meal cooking before her. He saw a watchful, guarded expression come to her eyes. "Are you well, Adela?"

"Hmmm…?" she glanced up. "Oh! Sorry Duncan, I was just thinking…"

Pulling off his boots and setting them aside, Duncan nodded, "I've noticed. Your eyes get an almost far away look, but it's still as though they are watching everything around them." He tilted his head. "It's actually a bit unnerving."

"Really?" She asked, "I hadn't known that." She gave the spit a turn, resting her chin on one knee. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Well, my dear, I believe you just did," came the wry reply.

"Oh, ha ha," she retorted, "You are just too funny. And you wonder why Mother did not want to join the Wardens?"

"Ah, ah, my dear girl. I do not wonder. I  _know_ she did not like us, and I know the  _why_ ," he made a welcome gesture with his hand. "Go ahead and ask your question."

Another turn of the spit, and the fire spat and crackled as the fat from the rabbits dripped down. "Is it strange to mourn for someone you barely knew?" she looked up into Duncan's face, which she noticed was carefully guarded. "I mean, I barely knew Nelaros, and before I even met him I was prepared to…well, not like him. But, from what I did know of him, I almost feel as though I am now…missing something." She scoffed, looking down at the wedding ring Nelaros had placed on her finger before his death. "It's strange. How can I be missing something I never had?"

Her eyes were turned back to the conies, watching the flames lick up to the greasy flesh. She didn't really expect an answer from Duncan; how could he answer something like that? Did he know anything of loss? She presumed so. What warrior - especially one from an order more dedicated to others than any other she had heard of - would not know of loss. She knew Maric had known loss; Loghain she was certain of it. Her mother? Yes, from what she remembered, most definitely yes. She looked back over to the warden. "I apologize, Duncan. It's an unfair question, especially when taken out of context." She pulled the spit from the flames, resting the rabbits on the hot stone. She heard Duncan shuffle behind her, and felt his strong hand on her shoulder. Tearing her gaze from the flames, she was startled to see such an expression of sympathy radiating from those dark, intense eyes. "I can tell you, from experience, my dear girl," his voice laden with emotion he thought long buried, "it is more than possible to mourn the loss of something, especially when you believe you never had it."

Biting her lip, she nodded, reaching up to pat the hand that had remained on her shoulder. Then, with a slight quirk of her eyebrows, she turned her attention back to the conies. Duncan moved back to his seat, and watched silently as she pulled two off from the spit and placed them on a plate, handing it to him. "I can't vouch for my open fire culinary skills, but, I'm certain they're edible." With a small smile, she pulled one off for herself, settling on the ground, her back against the log Duncan sat upon. Stunned by his own reaction to Adela's question, Fereldan's Commander of the Grey ate in silence, his eyes staring, unseeing, into the flames of the fire.


	6. Chapter 6

The great ruins of Ostagar came into view ahead, the ancient Tevinter fortress sprawling over several acres bordering the Korcari Wilds. Even at that distance and despite centuries of abandonment, the ancient power of the Tevinter Imperium almost radiated from the structure, chilling Adela to her core. Realizing her steps had slowed and Duncan continued his brisk pace, the young woman quickened her pace to catch up to the man.

Duncan glanced sideways at the girl, a small grin on his face. Adela huffed a bit. "Yes, very funny. You keep forgetting that I'm an elf, and a small one at that. I practically have to run to keep up with you and your overly long legs!"

The commander's grin widened into a true smile, and then he stepped off the path, pulling his pack off. Confused, Adela stepped to his side and slid her own pack from her shoulders. Her shoulder muscles practically rejoiced as the weight was removed and she stretched and flexed her shoulders, neck and arms to keep them from getting stiff. "Why are we stopping here?" she asked. She figured another hour or two of walking and they would enter the huge fortress looming ahead.

Merely raising a finger, encouraging patience, Duncan turned around in time to watch a large, bear like man emerge from the surrounding trees. Adela was impressed: the newcomer was easily the largest man she had ever seen, not just in height but breadth. A heavy full beard of red covered the lower half of his face, with shaggy red hair covering much of the upper half. From beneath heavy brows bright blue eyes glimmered with mirth. He was dressed in fur and leather armor, and carried upon his back a huge greatsword. The two men greeted each other, embracing and clapping each other soundly on the backs. Adela suppressed a giggle when she noted that the bear-man's clap staggered Duncan.

Pulling away, the newcomer's sharp eyes settled upon the diminutive form of the elven woman, skimming over her form from head to toe and then back to her face. "This yer new recruit?" he all but growled out in a deep, rumbling voice like an earthquake.

Nodding, Duncan replied, "Artan, this is Adela. Our newest recruit." The commander stepped closer to the elf, allowing his familiar presence to bolster her nerves. The other man - Artan - scoffed, lunged forward and grabbed one of the girl's hands in his huge paws, encompassing her hand and half of her forearm. "Good to know ya," he responded, his eyes still on her face, almost searching. A moment of recognition came over his face and he looked back at Duncan, still holding Adela's hand.

"You know, Duncan, the girly here looks jus' like that uppity Dalish woman," he rumbled, looking back at the girl.

"Indeed she does, Artan," Duncan replied, "This is Adela  _Mahariel_ Tabris, Adaia's daughter."

With a "humph!" he let go of her hand, placing both meaty fists on his hips, and continued to appraise the young elf before him. "Well, well, well…can she fight like her ma?" His eyes went specifically to the bow on her back.

A chuckle and Duncan replied, "I'm not certain I'd say she fights like her mother, no. But, she does have a style that is quite effective."

"She's rather scrawny, ain't she?" the bear-man continued, his eyes losing their mirth and becoming hard in their scrutiny of her. Adela continued to meet his gaze, fighting down the unease rising in her stomach. Could she actually be turned away from the Wardens before even getting to the joining? She honestly did not know how she felt about that possibility.

But Duncan was confident in his newest recruit, and let Artan know as much. "She may be small, my friend, but she's a good head on her shoulders, and has the skill necessary to either avoid a fight or get herself out of trouble with words or blade. She's exactly the kind of Warden we need. You know," He grinned, nudging his friend, "she  _thinks_. Not all brute strength." Artan looked up and met Duncan's eyes, clearly seeing the hidden meaning behind the gaze. Artan knew what Duncan was about and trusted in his instincts. Shrugging his massive shoulders, Duncan's second met the girl's eyes, gave her a wink, and then turned his full attention to his commander.

Adela stood aside as Duncan gave his second instructions and then handed him a rolled parchment with instructions to give it to Alistair. The giant of a man chuckled at the mention of the junior Warden, and Duncan gave the man a hard look. "Sure, sure, Duncan, no worries," he grumbled at his commander. Then, with a deep bow to Adela, the huge man stepped back into the forest, blending effortlessly into the shadows, and left without a sound.

Adela simply could not hide her appreciation of the man's talents, gave a low whistle and turned back to Duncan. "For such a huge, seemingly ungainly human, he certainly moves like an elf," she complimented. Duncan nodded. "He was raised amongst the Chasind folk," he told her as he picked up his pack, indicating for her to do likewise. "They know these wilds like the backs of their hands, and Artan is no different. He's an excellent scout, and a good man. Perhaps a bit rough around the edges, but there are few better to have clearing the way through a mass of darkspawn." After they adjusted their packs, the pair stepped back onto the King's Highway and continued their trek to the ruins.

DA:O

A couple of hours later, and the travelers were standing before the entryway into the ruins. Adela had stopped, her gaze moving upwards, and upwards still, taking in the sheer enormity of the fortress itself. Duncan stopped, and watched as the elf took in her surroundings, smiling at the bemused expression upon her face. High stone walls reached up toward the sky, their jagged edges creating a false horizon. Where once ceilings had protected the stone floor, now only open sky could be seen. High arches indicated where doorways once stood, and in the distance towers could be seen, piercing into the sky. Taking in a deep breath and letting it slowly out, Adela stepped under the first arch and into Ostagar. As they walked along the uneven stones of the pathway, Duncan pointed toward a ramp to their right. "That is the Tower of Ishal," he explained. "It is named for its architect and was considered quite a marvel of architecture in its day." Adela merely nodded and smiled, her eyes still roaming the ruins, taking in each detail, memorizing it for future work.  _If I even ever have a chance to sculpt again_ , she thought, a sense of loss sweeping over her.

As that thought hit her, they stepped out into an open courtyard. She looked up as a familiar voice penetrated the brief moment of self-pity that came over her. She could see a familiar form, clad in golden armor, rush over to them. Cailan headed directly to Duncan, not yet seeing the small elven woman standing slightly behind the Warden.

"Duncan!" Cailan clapped the older man on the shoulder, his face an open expression of awe, relief and gratitude for the Warden's presence. "I was just thinking we would need to send out a search party for you!" His voice as jovial as ever, a wide smile on his face, Cailan looked almost like a boy meeting a childhood hero.  _Perhaps he is_ , Adela thought, grinning over at her friend.

Duncan chuckled at the king's joviality, "No need for anything of the sort, Your Majesty," the Warden replied with a slight bow. "This is one battle we could not afford to miss."

Shaking his head, with an answering chuckle on his lips, Cailan smiled as he started to turn towards the woman standing behind Duncan, "No, no need for that. I have heard that you have found a promising recruit?" His eyes then fully on Adela, the smile vanished, and the friendly look in his blue eyes faded. "Adela?" he questioned, stepping around the Warden to stand before his young friend. "What?" Then, anger clouded his face as he shook his head, rounding on the Commander of the Grey. "Duncan! What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, one hand reaching over to grasp Adela firmly by the arm in a protective, brotherly fashion as he turned his anger upon the elder Warden.

"Your majesty, Adela has been recruited into the Wardens," Duncan calmly advised the young king, a little taken aback by the strong negative reaction the king met him with. But Cailan would hear nothing of it. "No." he said firmly, pulling a grimacing Adela forward, "No, I won't allow it. You cannot recruit Adela into the Wardens." Adela's brows rose at the sheer intensity of the king's voice.

"Your majesty…" Duncan began but Adela cut in, pulling her arm free of Cailan's grasp. "Cailan, I've been conscripted in the Wardens, and I will gladly serve…" she ended the sentence with a slight squeak as Cailan's hands landed firmly on her shoulders, giving her a shake. "You are not a warrior, Adela!" he all but shouted. "You are an artist," his hands moved from her shoulders to her hands, pulling them up. "Duncan, have you even looked at her hands? They are soft, the hands of an artist, someone who creates! Not the hands of a warrior!"

But Duncan would not hear of that. Shaking his head, he calmly replied, "Your majesty. You are wrong. Our young Adela here is more than an artist, more than a warrior. She has courage and a good sense of people. We need people just like her in the Wardens, and," this time Duncan stepped forward, pulled Adela from Cailan's grasp and moving her behind him. He met the king's eyes unflinchingly and calmly reminded the young king, "she has been conscripted, and even the King cannot deny the Grey Wardens Right of Conscription." Duncan felt regret form in his chest. Cailan was an ardent supporter of the Wardens, and he did not wish to alienate him. However, Adela was an excellent recruit, one he was willing to fight for to keep for the order.

Cailan met Duncan's eyes, so unflinching, determined to get his way in this. Concerned by the turn of events, Adela stepped forward, between the men breaking the ongoing war of wills, and placed a hand on Cailan's chest. The human king looked down upon his elven friend. "Cailan, I thought you worshiped the Wardens?" there was a teasing quality in her voice, and it helped to calm the irate man somewhat. "Now this way you can worship me."

But Cailan was not in a good humor. "Adela, do you know what this means?" he asked quietly. "You'll be spending the rest of your life fighting, killing,  _destroying_. That's not you. You create; you preserve. This is not the life for someone like you." All Cailan could do was hope his young friend would understand, ask for sanctuary from the conscription. He would gladly go against the Wardens to keep her from that life. He was utterly dismayed when the only reply he got from her was a gentle shake of her blonde head. "Anora will  _kill_ me if anything happens to you," he pleaded, the last card he had in hopes of changing the woman's mind. A sharp little giggle, a sad smile, and Adela reached up and placed a calming hand on her friend's cheek, "How about you just send her in Duncan's direction and she can kill  _him_ instead?" she joked. Duncan raised an eyebrow at that comment, chuckled quietly, and said nothing. The king and elf's eyes remained pinned to each other, and then finally Cailan sputtered out a bitter sigh, and looked down. He clasped Adela's tiny hands in his own, and then turned to the Warden Commander.

"I apologize for my outburst, Duncan," the king apologized. "I was taken aback by this news."

Feeling the tension slip from him (he had no desire for a confrontation with the king in regards to the conscription issue), Duncan nodded. "It is understandable." He placed an affectionate hand on Adela's shoulder. "You would be surprised just how skillful with blade and bow this little lady is."

"How did you come to be conscripted?" Cailan asked of Adela. She looked down at her feet, shuffling uncomfortably. "That, Cailan, is a discussion for another time." She looked up, straight into his eyes. "I promise." Cailan studied Adela's face. Then, nodding, accepting that answer ( _for now_ ), he then turned back to Duncan.

As the two men discussed the situation, with Duncan mentioning the Arl of Redcliffe, Cailan chuckling in reply, Adela looked about her. The guards that surrounded Cailan (and heard the whole discussion regarding her conscription! She groaned at that little bit of gossip she was certain would get around) stood at attention, trying to blend in to the surroundings. She didn't recognize any of them, and so let her gaze wander around. Cailan's next words caught her attention.

"But we've yet to see the Archdemon. I'm not even certain this is a real Blight," there was strong disappointment in his fine voice, and Duncan picked up and commented upon that.

"Disappointed, your majesty?" Did Adela note a tone of amusement in his voice?

"Well, yes," came the quick reply, "I was hoping for a battle like the old tales: the king riding into battle with the Grey Wardens to defeat the Blight in one fell swoop." Adela nearly cringed at the hope and awe that was heavy in his voice. "It would be  _glorious_!"

"Your majesty," Duncan tentatively started, "I am certain that the Archdemon will show itself in time. If you could hold off until the Wardens from Orlais were to arrive…"

But Cailan wasn't hearing it. "We have won every battle thus far and this next will be no different." Conviction rang heavy in his voice, and if Adela had not spent the past three weeks traveling with Duncan, she well could believe it. As it was, base dupon the conversations she and Duncan shared during the journey, she was fairly certain that the previous battles had just been preliminary, and that the war against this Blight - and she had no reason to doubt it, despite the non-appearance of the Archdemon - was far from over.

Duncan tried to continue, but Cailan held up an impatient hand, "I'm sorry Duncan, but I must cut this short." he turned to Adela, "Adela, my friend, please come with me. I have something to discuss with you."

With a look to Duncan, Adela responded, "Just a moment, Cailan. I need to speak with Duncan first."

Nodding his assent, the king moved away with his guards in tow, to stand, waiting, at one of the ramps which, undoubtedly, lead to where his camp was. While Duncan chuckled at the thought that the King of Fereldan would wait by word of an elven artisan, Adela was frowning, and Duncan took note. "You noticed it too," the Warden stated. Nodding, she replied, "I don't think Cailan is taking this very seriously."

"No, he is not."

Her frown deepened. Taking a breath, "Well, Cailan obviously has something to speak with me about. Hopefully he's not going to try and talk me out of joining the Wardens. But, if he tries to pull the 'Anora will be so upset' tactic with me again, I will pull his braids!" That visual in mind, Duncan allowed himself another chuckle. "What do you need me to do, after my talk with the king?" Adela asked the man who would be her commander. "Take some time," the Warden instructed. "Take your armor to the quartermaster and have it resized, restock your supplies," he held up his hand to her expected protest that she had no coin. "Just set it to the Warden account." His gaze shifted to the king, and then beyond, further into the ruins. "Adjust yourself to the new surroundings, get something to eat. Once you're settled a bit, seek out Alistair. He'll be assigned to help guide you."

Grinning, Adela responded, "Ah yes, the one with the unnatural love of cheese." Duncan returned her grin, patted her softly on the shoulder, and then left. As he passed by Cailan, he offered another polite bow and then continued into the ruins. Taking a moment to collect herself, taking another calming breath, the elf turned and walked over to where Cailan waited. The young king turned concerned eyes upon his young friend, took her arm and silently led her to where his encampment was located, in the western part of the ruins.

The pair, flanked by Cailan's bodyguards, was hard not to notice as they made their way over the bridge connecting the entrance of the ruins to the main square. Many eyed the small, beautiful elven woman the king kept a firm grip upon. Some smirked, others shook their heads. But all bowed respectfully as their king passed by. Up another set of steps, and turning to their left, the pair and their escort entered the royal encampment. As Cailan was about to pull Adela into his tent, the girl stopped, shaking her head. Cailan, confused, looked down at her. With a wave, he motioned for his guards to step back and away.

"What, Adela?" Cailan asked.

Letting out a gusty sigh, Adela replied, "Is there somewhere else we can talk?" she lifted her blue eyes to Cailan's. "I've…well, I've come to know that there are certain…rumors floating around regarding you and I and I'd just as soon not feed the gossip." Adela's face flushed with embarrassment. She knew very well that those rumors - as well as others that suggested Cailan was unfaithful to Anora - were untrue and completely unfounded. However, she had no wish to fuel the fires as a target to some of those rumors.

Cailan's face darkened. He, too, had heard various little snippets that questioned his devotion and love for his wife. Loghain himself had even once questioned him! But, he had not known that their friend here - their honorable friend who had never asked anything of the royal pair other than their friendship - was part of those rumors, and this sudden knowledge did nothing to relieve the tension he was already feeling. He had considered granting her request, but thought better of it. Why fan the flames by avoiding a situation they normally would find themselves in? With a shake of his head, he said, "Come now, Adela. If you did not know of these rumors, would you have any trepidation coming inside?" He smiled as Adela shook her head. "Well, then, fine. Just because we know doesn't make them true, right?" Again, another shake. "Sooo? It's comfortable inside." He grinned, teasing her. "There's a nice, comfy chair that normally only I get to sit in, but I may let you." He tilted her face upwards, and was rewarded with a grin.

"Fine, fine, you big baby," she swatted his hands away. And followed Cailan into the tent.

The tent was huge - a pavilion really, with curtains sectioning off a private area from the main chamber. In that chamber stood a table covered with maps and other parchments, several wooden chairs, and - oh yes - the comfy chair Cailan promised. With a grin, the elven woman practically jumped into the chair, and then, with an imperiously graceful wave of her hand, motioned for the king to sit. Laughing, Cailan pulled one of the chairs closed and took a seat beside his friend. His face quickly took on a thoughtful expression, one the elf knew well. So, she sat patiently as he gathered his thoughts.

"Adela," Cailan began, almost tentatively, as though unsure of his own thoughts, "when was the last time you had seen Loghain?"

Surprised by this question, she paused before answering, thinking. "Well…I had seen him several times prior to your leaving. But, always in a distance and never to speak. So, I suppose, if your question is when was the last time I spoke or interacted with Loghain, it would have to be the night of dinner after the last Landsmeet."

A slow, steady nod of his head, Cailan sat silent for a moment. "So, you hadn't spoken to him since then." It was not a question, more akin to his adjusting this information into whatever he needed to discuss with Adela. The line of his mouth bent downwards slightly. With a deep breath, he continued, "I know this will sound strange, but, I have cause to be…concerned about Loghain." He looked over at his friend, gratified to have her full attention. If anyone could help him puzzle this out, he was certain it was Adela.

"Why concerned?" she asked, prompting him to continue. Her question met with a shrug, and a confused, uncertain look in his eyes.

"I can't really put my finger on it," he answered. "Anora's noticed it as well, although neither of us can say for certain what, exactly the issue is. He seems distant…" Adela snorted at this, but he continued, "No, Adela, more distant than usual. And, there have been moments of…confusion." Exasperated, the young king threw himself off the chair and onto his feet, flinging his hands upwards. "I just don't know. It's more of a feeling, really, than anything either of us can put a finger on." He turned back to Adela, noting the concern that now eclipsed her face. "Loghain is here, of course. Over in the next encampment. I want you to go over there and talk with him. See if you notice anything." His eyes were pleading. He knew that Adela wasn't particularly comfortable in Loghain's presence, although he knew that discomfort had been waning over the past few months. And, other than Cailan and Anora, she was the only person alive who knew the  _real_ Loghain, one of the few people Loghain  _ever_ let his guard down in front of. Cailan's hope was that she would be able to pinpoint what was wrong with Loghain or tell Cailan he and Anora are worrying over nothing.

Adela studied Cailan's pained expression for several moments. Then, rising from the chair, she placed her hands on his arms. "Okay, Cailan. If you and Anora think that something is wrong, I'll see if I can spot what it may be." She shrugged. "It could just well be the darkspawn uprising is causing unrest and he's just reacting to it."

Nodding his golden head, the tension seemed to ease a bit from the king. He had no idea how tense he had been about this. "Thanks, Adela. I appreciate it. Just talk with him. But, don't come back here right away. I don't want it to seem like we're working against Loghain," he noted Adela's frown at that. "If something's up, we need to be careful. Go about what you were doing before, and then come back later on. Maybe have dinner with me?" He was practically pleading.

Helpless against the little boy expression that came across Cailan's handsome face, Adela held up her hands in surrender. "Fine, fine. I do have other things to do in the meantime. Like, get my armor refitted, locate Alistair…"

Cailan's head lifted. "Alistair?"

The elf nodded her blonde head, "Yes. He's the junior Grey Warden and I'm to locate him. He's to be my guide in all things Grey Warden." Her eyes caught Cailan's. "Why? Do you know Alistair?"

The king shrugged, hating to lie to his friend. "A bit. Not very well, actually. I understand he's a good man…"

"With an unholy love of cheese," Adela finished with a chuckle.

"Wait. Did I hear you needed to get your armor adjusted?" Cailan smoothly changed the subject. Adela nodded again. "Why not buy new?" he asked.

"It's Mother's armor," she replied, and that answered everything. "It's a bit large, so Duncan suggested I give it over to the quartermaster for resizing. I'll most likely need it if I'm going to be seeing any battle." she purposefully ignored the wince that crossed Cailan's face. She was not going to have this argument again.

"Well, wait a moment…" Cailan went to the table, pulled out a piece of parchment and hastily scribbled something on it. Rolling it, he sealed it with wax, pressing his signet ring into it before it hardened. "Here," he handed the rolled parchment to the elf. "Give this to the quartermaster. It's instruction to make the repair of your armor priority." He raised a hand as Adela started to protest. "As you say, if you're here, and you're determined to fight, you will need armor. And, knowing how busy the quartermaster and his staff are, you may not get it in time. This way," he rapped the parchment against the side of his head, "you will."

Taking the parchment, Adela thanked her friend. Cailan placed his hands on his friend's shoulders, his blue eyes intense, friendly. "While I'm not glad you are here," he started, "I am glad that you are  _here_." He pulled her in for a quick hug, and then released her, turning her toward the exit.

She stood outside the tent for a moment, trying to decide what, exactly, she should do first. Then, straightening her back, she decided to get her conversation with Loghain over first. With a slight nod to the guard nearest the tent entrance, she walked toward the Teryn's camp site, just across the walkway.

Adela did not recognize the guard standing outside the tent, but she was not as familiar with Loghain's guards as she was with those who served at the palace. This one watched her approach with barely concealed disdain.

"Halt!" he called out, an arrogant tone to his voice.  _Wonderful_. "You approach the camp of Teryn Loghain. State your business or be off with you."

She stopped, frowning slightly.  _Okay_ …"My name is Adela Tabris, and I'd like to speak with…"

"Ha!" the man took a menacingly step forward, trying to intimate the slight elf with his superior size. "What makes you think that you, an  _elf_ , can request an audience with the Teryn?"

"Because she happens to be a friend of the family," can a dry, unamused voice from behind the guard. His eyes widened, the guard hastily took a step back to his post. "I apologize, my Lord. I had not known…" he started, but the Teryn cut him off. "Regardless, you should try and treat others a bit more respectfully," Loghain admonished the man as he took a step forward, taking Adela's hand in his. "This girl could have been anyone with an important message." Nodding in assent, the guard raised his head and resumed his duties. Without another word, the Teryn of Gwaren led Adela into his tent.

Adela stepped behind Loghain as he pulled the flap of the tent closed. She noted a confused expression on his face as he turned his attention toward her.  _He could be confused as to why I'm here_ , she reminded herself, trying to keep Cailan's concerned words from her head.

Moving past her, Loghain went to the room's center table. "I must admit, Adela," he turned back to her, "I am rather surprised to find you here, at Ostagar of all places."

Biting her lower lip, she shrugged her shoulders, "Well, that is a long story, Loghain. It would seem that I've been conscripted into the Grey Wardens." She watched his reaction change from confusion to almost outright fury.

"What!"  _Oh dear, was she going to have to argue with him, too?_ "Adela! How did this come about?" he demanded, stepping closer to her.

Still not quite ready to discuss what happened at the Arl's estate, Adela merely replied, "I…ran into a problem in Denerim, and Duncan conscripting me was the only way out."

A dark brow rose, "What kind of a problem?" Icy blue eyes, intense, caught Adela. As was usually the case, she found it difficult to break the contact. She frowned. "I…ended up killing some humans in self defense. The law is clear, though, and Duncan intervened before I could be taken to Fort Drakon."

The scowl deepened. "You killed someone?" Adela nodded. Shaking his head, turning around, he crossed his arms before his chest.  _Adela killed someone_? He could scarce believe it. He turned back. "In self defense?" he prompted.

The girl nodded. As the Teryn digested this, she watched him carefully. She saw nothing that would make her think anything was amiss. He reacted fairly much as she expected him to. "Adela, why would the Grey Wardens conscript you?" his question snapped her attention away from her thoughts.

A self deprecating smile twitched her lips. "Duncan tells me I'm just what the Wardens need." She grinned impishly, and was rewarded with a scoffing noise. "Ha! Duncan is just pleased to get his hands on a Mahariel!" He stepped forward, his clear blue eyes still retaining that intense look. "You are no warrior, Adela."

She stepped back, feeling a slight tug of anger growing in her chest. "You know, I had this very same lecture from Cailan, and I'm really not in the mood for another." she stood defiant, glaring at the Teryn. "Mother trained me; I have continued to train. I can use a bow nearly as well as she could, and I am well versed in the use of daggers. No, I would prefer not to be a warrior to fight, but I am capable and I wish people would stop telling me what I can and cannot do!" Loghain blinked, forcing away the traitorous smile that threatened to cross his lips. He always knew Adela had spirit, but he had never seen her as impassioned as she was now. As he admired the girl before him, Adela noted a quick, almost imperceptible change: his normally clear, icy blue eyes clouded slightly, giving them an almost milky quality. His face almost blanked. But, then, in the blink of an eye, it was gone. Had she not been especially watchful, the shift would have been unperceivable.  _What was that_?

Shaking his head, Loghain stepped forward, taking the girl's hands in his, his voice soft. "Calm, Adela. I meant no disrespect." He took a breath, his voice taking on its usual strength. "The Wardens are fortunate to have someone who is known more for her thinking than bashing things, that much is for certain." His gaze took on its usual intensity, and Adela had to wonder if she had imagined things. "I am certain Cyrion is not pleased with this turn of events?"

Adela shook her head, "Not really."

"What happened?" Loghain quietly asked, searching her face. But the girl remained resolute in not discussing it. "I am not ready to talk about it, Loghain. And, most certainly not with you," she pointed out, stepping back. Loghain frowned, realizing that the issue had to be very serious for her to say such a thing. "Perhaps with Anora?" he prompted. She merely shrugged her shoulders, indicating the matter was no longer up for discussion. He took the hint, and backed off from the subject.

Still watching Loghain, Adela had to admit to an uneasiness regarding him. He had not said or done anything to indicate anything was wrong. But that slight shift in his face was a cause for concern. What it could mean, however, was very much beyond her knowledge and experience. And, she was not going to discuss it with anyone other than Cailan at this juncture. It could be nothing. It could be tension regarding the darkspawn as she had thought. Sighing, she spoke again, "I have some errands to run, my Lord…" She offered an almost defiant grin. "Armor to adjust, Wardens to find." She moved toward the tent's exit. Loghain moved to her side, looking down at the tiny elf. "Do you think you'll be on the front lines?" The question startled her momentarily. She shrugged, "I truly do not know. I don't think that my abilities are front line worthy, but that will be Duncan's call." She looked up into the concerned gaze of the older man. She frowned slightly, said her goodbyes and left the tent. Loghain had not said a word as she departed.

Frown still in place, with a final glance back to the tent entrance, she walked away, unable to shake the feeling that perhaps Cailan and Anora were correct in their assessment that something  _was_ wrong with Teryn Loghain.


	7. Chapter 7

Loghain stared at the flap allowing egress into his tent.  _Adela is here_? _In Ostagar?_  The thought brought a slight groan to his lips, and he turned away, frustrated and angry at this turn of events.  _She should not be here! Damn that Duncan_! He spied his table - piles of parchments and maps neatly stacked, one large map encompassing the ruins of Ostagar spread out over the rest. Moving over to the table, he let his eyes settle on the chalk marks - gold - indicating what Cailan and the royal troops would set their front lines. Further to the south was marked in white chalk where Loghain and his troops would await the signal to come in and flank the enemy forces, sandwiching the monsters between the two forces. The plan had merit save for one blaring weakness: because of Loghain's vantage - or rather lack thereof - they needed to depend upon the beacon in the Tower of Ishal to be lit so that the general would know when to send in his troops. Loghain would have to send one of his soldiers in to do so. He leaned over the map, nodding his head, forcing all thoughts of the elven girl from his mind.

DA:O

Adela wandered through the camp, searching for the quartermaster's stall. She did not notice the appreciative glances tossed her way or the lingering gazes. She paused briefly by the platform upon which stood a priest, quoting the Chant of Light, offering up prayers for the few soldiers who stood or knelt on the ground below. Adela believed in the Maker, but also revered the gods of her mother's people - the Creators. Of those gods, Adela revered June, God of Craft. She dipped to her knees, offered a brief prayer of thanks to both the Maker and June, and then rose to continue on her search for stall.

Finally, she spotted the area that had to the quartermaster - what with all the armaments and other various supplies strewn about. Pulling off her pack, she entered the area, starting to pull her mother's armor from the depths.

"Er! You there!" the man who had to be the quartermaster shouted at her, his hands waving wildly at her. "Where you been, girl! Where's the armor you was to deliver? And," he scowled, "why are you dressed so preposterously?"

Taken aback, Adela glanced down at her breeches and tunic.  _Preposterously? What?_ Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to speak, but was interrupted. "I was talkin' to you, girl!" the quartermaster continued.

"Now just wait a moment, sir!" Adela found her voice. "I am unsure as to what you are talking about. Do you think I'm one of your servants?"

The balding man took a step back, this time actually looking at the girl before him. It was then he noticed the elegantly curved bow on her back and the pair of fine daggers sheathed at her hips.  _Oh_ …"I apologize," he mumbled. "All you elves look alike to me."

Fine brows rose at that. "Hmm…well, if you must know, I am a Grey Warden recruit." She actually took satisfaction in watching the man pale a bit.  _He was rude to a Grey Warden?_  She continued. "And," she pulled her armor out of the pack, "I have armor here that I need adjusted to my size." She took a measuring look of the man. "You can accommodate this request, correct?" She did not notice the dark young man who stood beside the stall, now watching the exchange with cheerful interest. She did take note of the quartermaster's nod. "Fine. Here." She handed him the armor.

The man stared at the pieces of armor she handed to him, a frown furrowing his brow. "Two pieces?" He looked up.

"Its Dalish armor," she advised him, now concerned about her mother's armor. "It's in two pieces to allow more freedom of movement. You've probably noticed that women are built differently than men?" She quirked up one brow; the man nodded numbly. "Well, because our muscle structure is different, and for those of us who rely on agility and dexterity as opposed to brute strength, we need to be able to move. This," a sweep of her hand indicated the armor the man now held. "allows for that freedom of movement." She looked up and smiled into the man's dazed brown eyes.  _Win them over with bullshit_ , she smirked as Shianni's words came to mind. "Now, can you make the adjustments?" She smiled sweetly at him.

The quartermaster nodded. "I'll just need to size it to you. Please, please step this way."

Adela followed the man around a corner, where he took each piece of armor and held it up against the girl. After muttering some, making a few marks on the armor with some chalk, he nodded.

"I can have it to you in a few days," he said as he set the armor aside. But, Adela shook her head, handing over Cailan's parchment. "I'm sorry, my good man, but I need it in a few hours. Here," she placed the scroll in the man's hands. She watched, slightly amused, as he read the king's commandment. He looked up at the elven girl and then back down at the scroll, king's seal and all, and then back at the girl. Then, with a snarling growl, he said he'd have it done in a few hours, and suggested she leave him be so he could get to work.

"Oh, wait," she halted the man. "May I see your wares?" she fluttered her eyelashes, well aware the man was annoyed with her. It worked. "I need some arrows. Oh! And, do you happen to have any cheese…?" she chattered as she followed the man through the stall.

After making several purchases, remembering to put them all on the Grey Warden account, Adela walked from the stall, tucking her prizes into her pack and slinging a quiver full of arrows over her shoulder.

The dark man who had been watching the exchange sidled up beside Adela. "So," he chuckled in a friendly, smooth voice, "got to put that fool in his place, did ya?"

Glancing up at the man, Adela turned fully toward him. "Who might you be?" she asked, stepping back from him. He had been standing far too close for her comfort.

"Me? Name's Daveth." He puffed his chest out. "I'm a Grey Warden." he bragged.

"Oh really?" Adela smiled. "Well, I'm a recruit, just arrived with Duncan." she held out a small hand. "I look forward to joining your order."

Daveth's entire countenance and posture relaxed, and genuine pleased smile crossed his lips, softening his face a bit. "So, you're the new recruit are you? Well, so am I. I'm not a Warden yet." he eyed her critically, taking her hand in a firm shake. "'Bout time you showed up. Was startin' to get bored, what with only some uppity knight to talk with."

Laughing as she released Daveth's hand, Adela introduced herself. "I don't suppose you know anything about the joining?" She had to ask. She was so curious about the darned thing, especially since Duncan wouldn't say a word about it. She was disappointed when Daveth shook his head.

"Sorry, but no. Only thing I could figure is that we're gonna be sent into the Wilds."

"The Wilds?"

Daveth nodded sagely, "Oy, yeah. I grew up around here, been in the Wilds a time or two meself. Kinda creepy what with witches and barbarians and such. But, I gather it's some kind of a test." The man watched the elf carefully. She didn't seem too concerned, which was fine by him. At least she wasn't a coward.  _And, she's pretty_. He grinned.  _Very pretty. Maybe…._

"Well," Adela spoke, shaking Daveth from his thoughts. "I suppose we'll find out later. Now, I need to find the Warden called Alistair."

A bark of laughter came from Daveth. "Oh, yeah. You'll find him thata way," he waved and pointed up the ramp slightly behind them. Tapping his nose, he added, "You'll know him when you see him, trust me." Then, grabbing her hand and kissing it lightly, the rogue bounded off.

Shaking her head in bemusement, certain that Daveth had to be the biggest character she had ever met outside of Denerim, she turned about and headed up the ramp. To her left she spied elves hurrying to get a table set up along one end of the hall. To her right, was another ramp, from which emanated the sound of an angry male voice. Intrigued, she turned and headed up the ramp.

Standing several yards ahead of her stood two men: one a mage dressed in a robe with a staff slung across his back. He was the angry one. And the other, a handsome young man with reddish blond hair and an open, friendly smile, dressed in splintmail carrying a sword and shield on his back, was the target of the mage's ire. As she neared, she could hear quite clearly as the 'argument' continued.

"Haven't the Grey Wardens asked enough of the Circle?" the mage demanded, his posture with crossed arms and too straight back indicating an extremely aggressive stance.

"I apologize, Ser Mage, but the Revered Mother asked me to present you with this message," the young man, completely unperturbed, maintained a relaxed stance, clear amusement showing in his amber eyes. He spotted Adela and shot her a quick, good natured wink before turning his attention fully back to the irate mage before him.

"I care little for what that woman wants. Have you nothing better to do than to harass me?" he demanded.

The man - apparently a Grey Warden - responded, his warm, educated voice taking on a slightly snide tone, "Yes, I was harassing you by delivering a message." He crossed his arms, obviously getting tired of this exchange.

"Bah!" the mage scoffed, "Get out of my way, fool!" he shoved passed, nearly knocking Adela from her feet. The younger man shot a nasty look over at the mage while reaching over to take hold of Adela's arm, steadying her. "You could be more polite!" he shouted at the retreating back of the mage, "Or at least apologize!". The man either did not hear him or choose to ignore him as he continued on his way.

Releasing Adela's arm, the young man turned fully to the girl, "You know, one good thing about the Blight is how it pulls people together."

He said it so deadpanned Adela just stared for a moment and then said, "I beg your pardon?"

But he just chuckled. "Oh, you know! It's all one big party, and the darkspawn are invited. We could hold hands and sing campfire songs," he wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. "One big happy family!"

Giggling, shaking her head, Adela replied, "You are one very strange human. You are aware of that, correct?" she teased.

If he was offended, it did not show. Not with his smile widening. "You know, you're not the first woman to tell me that." He then took a step back and really looked at the elf before him.  _Maker_ , he thought, feeling a bit of tightness in his throat,  _she's soooo_ ….

"…Adela," she was saying, holding out one tiny hand toward him. The young man merely stared at the proffered hand. Adela sighed, reaching out and tapping him on the chest. "Hello?" she looked up, her bluest of blue eyes gazing up into his amber.  _He has nice eyes_ , she thought. "I said my name is Adela, I'm the recruit that recently arrived with Duncan."

"Oh! What? Oh yes, sorry," the man blushed as he focused on the blue ( _wow! They are really blue_ ) eyes. "Yes, sorry. Ahmm…my name is Alistair," he managed to get out. "I'm the junior Grey Warden and it will be my duty to escort you about and settle you into being a Grey Warden."

"Greetings, Alistair. Duncan has told me some about you," she smiled.  _She has such a pretty smile._  "I'm very pleased to finally meet you."

"Oh, what? Duncan's mentioned me?" he blushed as the elven girl nodded. "I hope he didn't say anything too bad."  _How come Duncan didn't mention in his missive that she was pretty?_

Her laughter was like a tiny bell chiming, and Alistair found he liked the sound of it greatly.  _The new recruit is a pretty - no beautiful - girl_ , he thought,  _with a nice smile and pretty laugh_.

"Oh, don't worry, Alistair. Duncan said only the best about everyone."

 _Oh_. "Well, I'm glad to hear that." He looked thoughtful. "You know, it's just occurred to me that there have hardly been any women in the Grey Wardens." He frowned. "I wonder why that is." he mused.

The right brow going up, a smirk on her face, Adela queried playfully, "Oh? And you want more women in the Wardens, do you?"

Alistair smirked right back at her, "Now would that be so bad? Not that I'm some drooling lecher or something," he smiled as both of her brows rose, "Please don't look at me like that!"

"Well, Alistair, the not-drooling-lecher," Adela's smile widened. She felt completely comfortable with Alistair and was a bit amazed at herself for flirting -  _flirting_ \- with him. "Might I ask what that argument was about?" she really was curious.

"Oh, that…" He glanced quickly behind him, making certain the uppity mage was long gone. "Well, I was asked by the Revered Mother to deliver a message, and Duncan said we're all supposed to get along, so I did." he rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. "Trouble is…" his eyes met hers honestly, flinching just a bit at their intensity, "I used to be a Templar, and that tends to cause some…friction between me and the mages."

Adela was stunned. This jovial, friendly man was a mage-hunter? "Well, I can certainly see how that could cause some…awkwardness."

The young Warden nodded, appreciating her words, "Yes, well. I get the feeling that the Revered Mother simply had me deliver the message as an insult to the mage, and did he ever pick up on that." He shook his head ruefully. "I probably should have refused to deliver it…"

"But Duncan's orders are sometimes hard to disobey," Adela offered, fully understanding.

"Hey, yeah. I bet you know, having traveled with him for the past few weeks."

The elf nodded. "He is a wonderful traveling companion, though. Good sense of humor." she was grinning. "Even if he is a bit tight lipped about some things."

"He's a good man," Alistair replied, his voice heavy with reverence for the man. At Adela's questioning look, he clarified, "He saved me. I had been sent to the Chantry as a young boy and had resigned myself to the fact that I would probably die in the Chantry's service. Duncan saw I was…unhappy, tested me, and recruited me."

She nodded.  _So, Duncan has a history of saving people_. Smiling, she replied, "He's a good man. He saved me, too."

"Seems to be a habit with our Warden Commander," Alistair laughed. "Come on, I'll show you around, and you can ask any question you want."

They moved away, Adela digging into her backpack, pulling out a paper wrapped parcel. "Here," she thrust it into Alistair's large hands. The young man looked down at the package she gave him, and up to her smiling face. "I understand that you have an unholy love of cheese." She waved to indicate the package, and then skipped away a few steps. Alistair unwrapped the package, revealing some crumbly goat cheese.  _Okay,_ he thought picking off a piece and popping it into his mouth _, now I am officially in love._  And followed after the elf.

DA:O

Their first stop - the mess tent. Alistair claimed to be starved and Adela had to admit she was hungry as well. She was amazed and a little appalled at the amount of food Alistair piled on his plate. She contented herself with a roll, cheese and some dried meat. Grabbing a cup of water, she sat down beside her guide, watching in almost morbid fascination as he shoveled the food into his mouth. Taking small bites of her food, sipping at her water, she almost choked with laughter as Alistair not only finished his meal before she did but got up for a second helping.  _Must be a human warrior's appetite_ , she figured, covering her mouth with a delicate hand when Alistair sat back down. She glanced back over at him.  _He is handsome_ , she noted.  _But approachable handsome_. She experienced a slight pang when her thought of Nelaros, but shook that away. She had a new life to adjust to and she had already mourned him. As she and Alistair sat beside each other, eating in relative silence (apparently his devotion to his meals did not include small talk) she was startled to realize that his features seemed familiar. However, she was certain she had never had occasion to meet any Templar before, and she was sure she would remember one like Alistair. Shrugging, she concentrated on her meal. When Alistair rose for a third helping, the elf could not help it and erupted into a fit of laughter. Alistair merely raised one red-gold brow at her, grinning away like he knew some great secret he wasn't going to share, and shoveled more food into his mouth.

The pair spent the rest of the day together, with Alistair showing her around the camp and answering any non-specific Warden and non-warden questions. He, too, avoided answering anything with regards to the joining, much to Adela's growing frustration. As they briefly passed by Daveth, the young rogue merely waggled his eyebrows at Alistair, gesturing to the lovely elf walking beside him, and then walked away. Alistair glared at the man's back before turning his attention back to Adela. During their tour, they met the third recruit, a Ser Jory, a human knight who took great pains to inform her that he was originally from Redcliffe and was currently serving in Highever. This was obviously the knight Daveth had complained about earlier. Adela could understand the rogue's frustration. While not a "bad" man, he obviously had his prejudices, not just against elves, but women as well.  _Maybe 'prejudices' isn't the right word_ , she thought, revising her opinion to one that he was merely ignorant.

Taking their leave, they walked to the quartermaster's stall. As it had been a few hours since her prior visit Adela decided to check on the status of her armor. The man was almost glowing with pride in having completed the armor, and in awe of the workmanship of the gear itself. He had given her the spare pieces, asking if he could keep one. "The workmanship is truly amazing and unique," he quipped, gazing almost lovingly at the bits of leather he held out. "If we could create other suits like this…" Seeing no harm, Adela allowed him to keep one piece, wondering if he'd be able to learn the secrets of Dalish leather working. With the final words of "If it doesn't fit correctly come back" the pair went off to put Adela's belongings in her tent, which was located at the camp set up for the Warden recruits. Alistair's tent had been set up as it was his responsibility to look after the recruits until the joining could take place. Daveth and Jory were no where to be found, but Duncan stood, gazing into the bon fire roaring in the center of the recruit camp.

"Ah, I see you've found Alistair," Duncan remarked as the pair entered the encampment. Adela nodded as she placed her belongings in her tent, and Alistair replied, "And she gave me cheese." Duncan chuckled at that, but then his face took on a slightly stern look as he turned his full attention to his junior Warden. "Are you quite finished riling the mages, Alistair?"  _Oh_.

"What can I say?" Alistair quipped, "The way the Revered Mother wields guilt she should join the army."

"Oh? And she told you to sass the mage, did she?" Duncan scolded. Glad she wasn't on the receiving end of the scolding, Adela sat down on a nearby log, picking at the fire with a stick as the two talked. "We cannot afford to antagonize anyone, Alistair. We must all try and get along."

Hanging his head rather like a beaten puppy, Alistair mumbled, "You're right, Duncan. I…apologize."

Watching the young man, Duncan nodded. "Just, try and restrain your…sense of humor, Alistair," the man encouraged. "Not everyone is as understanding as I am or," he indicated Adela, "the little lady here."

Alistair perked up, and glanced at his mentor at Adela's name. A sense of dread briefly shot through Alistair's stomach as he watched the girl play with the fire and he was aware of Duncan's eyes on him. Shaking his head, he cleared the unpleasant thoughts away. It wouldn't accomplish anything to get worked up about the inevitable anyway.

After speaking briefly with Alistair, Duncan said farewell and went off to go and speak with the other Wardens, who were camped on the other side of the ruins. Alistair went to his tent to gather some tools and then, unsheathing his sword and removing his shield, sat beside Adela, and began sharpening his sword.

"Any more questions?" he asked as he stroked the whetstone along the sword. Adela shook her head, "No, not really." She looked over at the young man. "I've a friend who's fascination of the Wardens near rivals yours of cheese," she teased. Alistair grinned back. He really hoped she survived the joining. Not only because she was pretty, but she was nice and had a sense of humor. Plus, she was young. He glanced over at her.  _Too young_ , he thought, guessing her younger than twenty, a few years younger than himself. But, he reminded himself, it was hard to tell with elves - they seemed to be eternally young. He wondered what her story was, but was aware that he really wasn't technically allowed to ask. A Warden's prior life ceases to be once they become a Warden.  _Well_ …he thought,  _she's not a Warden yet_. As he opened his mouth to ask just that, a messenger arrived in their camp.

"Lady Adela?" he asked of the girl. Adela's brows rose, a small grin on her face. "Lady? No. Adela? Yes." The messenger looked a bit confused. Adela glanced at Alistair, who was very busily sharpening his sword ( _will there be any steel left?)_ and replied, "Yes. How can I help you?"

The messenger, a young elven man she had seen running messages all day, replied, "The king wishes to remind you of your dinner engagement with him."

Now Alistair's head shot up.  _She knows the king_? He looked over at her as she rolled her eyes and rose.  _How well did she know him_?

"Thank you, Pick, is it?" the elven boy nodded, "Alright, I guess we won't keep his majesty waiting." She turned to Alistair, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I had forgotten I had promised Cailan I'd have dinner with him. Sorry to leave you on your own."

Alistair merely shrugged his shoulders, continuing with his work. With a small, confused frown, Adela followed Pick to Cailan's encampment. Once she was beyond the recruit circle, Alistair looked up to watch her as she walked away, a slightly jealous feeling rising in the pit of his stomach.  _She knows the king_ ….and he went back to work, trying not to think of pretty smiles and musical laughs, or delicate elven ears…

DA:O

Cailan, attired more familiarly in breeches and hose, greeted her warmly at the entrance of his tent. With a word to his guard he was not to be disturbed unless urgent, he led Adela to the center table, which had been cleared of parchments and maps and was now covered with food.

"What? Did you bring Isabelle with you?" the elf asked as she sat, laughing, gesturing to the table. "And, how many people did you expect?"

Shaking his head, he laughed, "I was hungry," he joked as he spooned food onto his plate. Adela did likewise, and sat back down. She noticed an almost wistful look cross her friend's face. "You miss her, don't you?" she asked as she put a forkful of potatoes in her mouth. Cailan looked over at her, his misery all but laid bare. "I do." he sighed, taking a forkful himself and began to eat. He looked over at her. "There are days, since I've been away, that I cannot help but feel like I have not let her know just how much I love her." He frowned. "How special she is to me." He sighed. "And without our having borne an heir yet, there has been some squabbling amongst the other nobles. My uncle especially has been making noises for me to set Anora aside for a more 'fertile' bride." Adela stared at the king, an expression of utter confoundedness there.  _Set Anora aside? How could anyone expect him to do that?_ "I know he is been making inquiries of the Empress Celene." His frown deepened. "Loghain has even accosted me with this, reminding me of my obligation to his daughter. As if I would ever forget  _that_." He looked over. "I love Anora. And, if something happened to me here," he looked over at his friend, who had stopped eating to give him her full attention. "Do you think she would know?" He frowned at his plate. Adela stood and walked over to Cailan's side. Placing a warm hand on his shoulder, she gave him a gentle shake. He looked up. "I am positive Anora knows exactly how you feel about her," she assured him. "How do you know?" he asked. Adela shrugged, walking back to her seat, and starting to eat her food. "You forget, I'm her best friend. We best friends share everything." He could not help but notice the little wicked twinkle in her eye. He groaned, dropping his head down. "Great! Just great! I suppose I am no longer some mysterious marvel of king to you, am I?" Adela laughed. "You never were, Cailan!" and began to eat with gusto. Smirking, looking down at her plate, she said, "No, I can tell. This is not Isabelle's cooking."

With a laugh, the somber mood broken, Cailan began to eat as well.

After their meal, they stepped away from the table, Adela retaking the 'comfy' chair, and Cailan choosing to stand. He did not want to start this conversation, that much was evident. So, Adela decided to take the initiative. "I spoke with Loghain," She started. Cailan turned his attention fully to her, waiting. "I am…unsure as well." she concluded lamely.

Sputtering out a sigh, Cailan sat down on one of the other chairs. "Nothing at all?" he asked, hopefully, yet dreading.

Frowning, Adela said, "There was a slight change in his…countenance, while we spoke. An almost hazing of his eyes, his expression going blank. But, it was over so quickly I almost question what I saw." She looked into Cailan's eyes. "And, it's not an unfamiliar look. I've seen it in my father's eyes when he's overworked or tired, or worried about something." Slender shoulders shrugged. "And Loghain is about my father's age; and there is this Blight business, and," she indicated to Cailan, "what you just told me about the nobles' griping about you and Anora not having produced an heir yet. Don't you think that all that would cause him to be over tired, over worked, concerned?"

Nodding, biting his lip, Cailan nodded. "That is exactly what Anora and I thought," he confirmed. Slapping his hands to his knees, huffing out a sigh, he rose, extending his hand to Adela. The elf took it and rose from the chair. "Well, it seems we are back at square one," he said, still holding her hand. "It is probably nothing. So," he kissed her hand, "we will not worry about it any longer. Not until we have real reason to do so." He pulled her toward the exit. "You, my dear, need to get some rest."

As they neared the exit, they could hear a protest from Cailan's guards. Glancing at each other, they moved to investigate when a familiar form emerged from the flap. Loghain stepped fully into the tent, scowling at the sight of Adela's hand in Cailan's. A black brow rose and he shot Cailan with a questioning look.

"Oh, do not give me that look, Loghain," Cailan scolded with barely concealed irritation, "it is Adela."

Loghain's frown intensified. He reached over and pulled Adela from Cailan's grasp, pulling her to the exit. "Precisely why you should be concerned," the Teryn shot back, his grip tightening slightly. The king and elf each exchanged concerned looks.  _Now this was behavior unheard of from Loghain._  Trying to diffuse the situation, Adela calmly extracted her hand from Loghain's grasp, and stood at the entrance.

"Calm yourself, Loghain," she said quietly, "we merely passed the time with dinner. I needed to head back to camp anyway. I understand there's a test I must pass and I believe it's to commence tomorrow." Both men now turned concerned eyes her way. She forced a smile.  _It was nice that they cared so much, but when would they stop seeing me as a child_? She curtsied to Cailan. "As always, Cailan, it was a pleasure." She then turned an impish grin to Loghain, "And nice to see you as well, Teryn." With those words, she left the tent, tossed the king's guard a smile, walked back to the recruit camp.

She found Alistair still sitting (in almost the same spot) in front of the fire where she had left him just a couple of hours prior. Daveth and Jory were now in camp, setting up their tents and settling down for a bit of drink and talk, which consisted mostly of Daveth teasing poor Jory about missing his wife. Alistair raised his eyes to her, and a slight flush crept up his cheeks as he broke from the gaze. Confused by that reaction, Adela bid the men good night, and crept into her tent. After changing into her nightshift, Adela crawled into her sleeping bag. The male voices outside of her tent would rise and fall, either with mirth or irritation. Sounds similar to the Alienage, she mused. Drawing comfort on these similarities, the elven girl closed her eyes and fell quickly into an easy sleep.


	8. Chapter 8

After weeks of travel, Adela had gotten used to sleeping with nothing between her and the ground but the material of her bedroll. Still, she winced as she rose, stretching, arching her back, wishing for a real bed. She sighed, wondering if she would ever again sleep indoors, on a real bed with bedcovers as opposed to a sleeping sack ever again. She pulled her fingers through her silky hair, grimacing slightly at the dirty feel of it, and wondered if there was somewhere she could get a bath. Most likely not, she ruefully thought, and pulled on her breeches and tunic. She looked over at her mother's armor - well, now it was her armor. Breakfast first, she decided, attempt to find a bath, and then she'd try on the armor. Her plans for the morning set, she grabbed her boots and pack and stepped from her tent.

It was early - so early the sun was just coming up over the horizon. The fire pit still contained remnants of last night's fire and was easy for her to get started. There were soldiers and messengers already bustling about, but, judging from the noises coming from the other tents in their camp, she gathered she was the first to rise in the recruit camp. Frowning, she scanned the area, trying to recall just where the mess tent was located. Spotting it, she pulled on her boots, shouldered her pack and hurried over.

There were few inside (either it was too early or not early enough), but pans full of bacon and eggs and other breakfast items lined one wall, Grabbing a plate, she spooned out some eggs, grabbed a roll and set these on a nearby table. Locating a steaming kettle of tea, she poured herself a cup and settled down to eat. No familiar faces were seen, and so she finished her meal quietly and quickly, and decided to go on the hunt for a bath.

DA:O

Alistair didn't know what to do. Jory and Daveth had risen shortly after he had, but there was still no sign of Adela. He stared gloomily at her tent. Should he just walk in? He had tried calling her name, quietly, but had received no response. He had even tapped on the tent flap and again was met with silence. Daveth had offered to creep in and ease her awake, but the grin the rogue wore on his rugged face only confirmed that that would not be the best idea. With a shrug and glance to each other, the knight and rogue decided to head off to the mess tent for breakfast, leaving a bewildered Alistair behind.

Rubbing a hand roughly over his close shorn hair, the former templar had no idea what to do. He had been raised in a Chantry and had little experience with women who were not priests. He did know, however, that just barging into a woman's tent, uninvited, and while still practically strangers, would be a big no-no. He wished Duncan was there; the commander would not have any reservations, he was certain.

Steeling his resolve, straightening his back, Alistair made the decision. He'll just poke his head in just barely…

"Alistair?"

Jumping, a guilty flush staining his cheeks, the young Warden turned around to see the elven woman who had been the cause of his dilemma standing behind him, her long blonde hair hanging, wet, down her back, her cheeks rosy, and a towel held in one hand. A questioning look in her eyes as she stared at the man who had opened the flap to her tent. Jumping back, Alistair stuttered. "I, ah, was just…ahmm…" he looked at the tent again, and then back the young woman. The questioning look in her eyes had brightened to amusement, and she grinned as she stepped up to him, waiting for him to move aside from her tent so she could deposit her damp towel and sundries within. She turned her amused gaze back upon the Warden.

Taking a deep breath, for all the world feeling like the little boy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, Alistair mumbled, "I thought you were asleep."

Biting her lip, unable to keep the smile from spreading across her face, Adela whispered, "So you were going to go inside…?"

His head snapped up, his embarrassment clear, and he adamantly shook his head. "No, no, no, no…I was just going to…open the tent flap and call to you," he said sheepishly. His brow furrowed. "How long have you been awake?"

"Oh," she nonchalantly shrugged her shoulders, "Since sun up." She looked at him appraisingly, "Shouldn't you all have been up then?" she asked.

"Well, usually, I am, but, I, ah, didn't sleep well last night," it was the truth. Alistair had lain awake thinking about the newest recruit and wondered about her relationship to the king. He glanced down at her hands, noticing her turning the gold band that set upon her finger.  _Her ring finger_. He started.  _A wedding ring_? "You're married?" the question was out of his mouth before he had time to think.  _Oh, maker! She's married_!

"What?" she looked confused, and then glanced down at her hands. Looking back up, she peered into Alistair's eyes. Well, tried to. The young man was trying very hard to look anywhere but her eyes. "No, not married. I was betrothed…but…things didn't work out," there was a touch of sadness in her voice, and she dropped her gaze back to the ring. Although overjoyed she wasn't married, Alistair did notice the sadness that spread across her face. What should he say?

Before he could even come up with a rejoinder, Duncan strolled into the camp, Jory and Daveth not far behind.

"Ah, good, you are all here," Duncan turned his gaze to Adela, "And I see you managed to find the bathhouse." Adela smiled happily at that, pulled her hair and wringing more water from it. Jory and Daveth by then had joined them and Duncan motioned them to the fire, now burning hotly in the center of their camp.

Alistair stepped away from Adela and took his place by Duncan's side. Daveth went to stand beside Adela (a little too closely for the elf's comfort, but she didn't want to insult the man by moving a step away), Jory taking a place slightly behind the two.

"Today you three will be going into the Wilds, each of you to retrieve a vial of darkspawn blood," Duncan instructed, his eyes going from one recruit to another. Adela met his eyes, but her brows raised slightly, a questioning look in her eyes; Daveth's face took on a slightly green pallor while Jory frowned intensely.

"Wait," Adela started, "is this part of the joining?" She asked, wondering if  _now_ she'd get an answer.

"In fact, it is," Duncan confirmed. "I cannot go into further detail, but suffice it to say this is part of the joining."

Adela nodded. So, the test required they face darkspawn and retrieve the blood.  _Why the blood?_ Her quick mind settled on the most likely explanation:  _as proof that they were each able to face the monsters and bring them down._

"There are also some old Grey Warden ruins located in the Wilds," Duncan continued, "Within those ruins you should find a chest with a Grey Warden seal upon it. Retrieve the documents contained therein and return them to me."

"What kind of documents are these?" ever curious Adela asked.

"Old treaties," Duncan answered, "promising aid to the Grey Wardens in times of Blights."

Alistair was confused, "I don't understand. If they're so valuable, why were they left behind, the rot in old ruins?"

Shaking his dark head, Duncan replied, "It was always assumed we would return someday," he sighed, "A great many things were assumed that did not come to pass." A frown marred his rugged features. "The treaties were once considered merely a formality. Now, with many forgetting their obligations to the Grey Wardens, it will be wise for us to have these to help remind others of those same responsibilities."

"Get the blood and retrieve the treaties," Adela was saying. "So, when do we head out?"

His eyes skimming over her form quickly, he replied, "As soon as you are armed and armored."

Glancing down at herself, the elf grinned ruefully. "Okay, okay, off I go," she stopped, looking back at the elder Grey Warden, "Unless you have further instruction?"

He chuckled. "No. Alistair, of course, will be accompanying you. However, he will not be leading, but observing, as well as guiding and assisting with trouble. Listen to him carefully, as he has fought darkspawn before." With that, and a nod to the junior Warden, Duncan left the camp to go about other duties he no doubt had to see to.

The three recruits exchanged brief looks, and then Adela went to her tent to put on her armor and gather her weapons.

She picked the armor up from where it lay upon her pack, running her hands over the intricate designs stitched into the supple leather. She remembered seeing her mother wearing this set, and she hoped she would make her proud. She quickly divested herself of breeches and pulled on the leather skirt, lacing the sides and letting it fall to below mid thigh. She remembered that the skirt had fallen higher up the leg on her mother. Grinning, she pulled off her tunic and pulled on the top piece, lacing the sides. Next went on her shoulder guards and boots. Strapping the knee guard of the boots securely around her knees, she then pulled out the gloves. Like the armor and boots, the gloves were designed for someone who fought mostly with a bow, but could easily shift to wielding a blade. The leather guard covered her forearms, elbow guards strapping securely and comfortably about elbows. The gloves covered the entirety of the backs and palms of her hands, and half way up her long, slender fingers. The leather ended, exposing naked fingertips that could feel the string of a bow fair better than leather clad fingers could. Fully armored, Adela took a glance down at herself. She blushed faintly at the amount of exposed midriff as well as upper arm and leg. She moved about a bit in the armor, twisting at the waist, assuming an archer's stance. She had to admit, despite being a cloddish bigot, the quartermaster certainly knew his work. The armor fit snuggly where it should, and gave away in other areas allowing for comfortable movement. She was also impressed with the quality of the stitches. Rebraiding her long hair in a single braid that fell down her back, she then twisted it in a knot and secured it at the base of her neck.  _Maybe I should cut it off_? Pleased, the elf slung her bow and quiver full of arrows over her shoulder, strapped her daggers to her hips, took a deep breath and stepped out into the camp.

She expected a reaction - open leering from Daveth, certainly, even a scandalized expression to cross Jory's face. But, she could have almost laughed as Alistair's face, after one look at her in her armor, turned crimson right to the tips of his ears. Daveth's reaction she could almost tolerate - she knew his sort and was prepared for open ogling. Jory's reaction was superbly predictable. With Alistair, she was actually expecting a joke tossed her way. His embarrassed reaction was a bit more than she had expected, and she had to restrain herself from laughing at him.

"See now, Ser Knight," Daveth said with a sweeping motion toward the elven craftswomen-turned-Dalish-archer, "that is why I joined. The women. 'Course," he turned appreciative eyes to Adela, who met his frank admiration with a raised eyebrow, "I had thought I'd be the warrior impressing the ladies, not the other 'way 'round."

Jory's expression didn't change, but she did note that Alistair's face was beginning to assume its normal hue. Clearing his throat, trying very hard not to look  _there_ , Alistair found his voice. "Okay, all." Well, okay, there was a slight hitch to his voice.  _Where did she get that armor? Maker! It looked…she looks…_ "Let's go." And with that, Alistair led his charges to the gate that led into the Wilds.

The small group passed nearby Loghain's encampment. Several soldiers and guards had looked up to watch the four, eyes inevitably straying to the elven figure. Scowling at the sudden lack of attention his men were paying, Loghain glanced over. Spying Adela, he nearly did a double take. With her blonde hair up, dressed in the Dalish armor and carrying that bow, Adela was, despite her lack of height and size, the spitting image of Adaia.  _No_ , he corrected himself. While he had always found Adaia to be a striking woman, Adela was more.  _She was beautiful_. The Teryn watched as the young woman and her companions approached the gates and, after a brief discussion with the guardsman there, she and the others passed through and headed out to the Wilds. Anxious that she was left in the care of the fool Alistair, he prayed that she would return, in one piece. After another moment, Loghain turned back to the soldier he was speaking with.

DA:O

A 'twang' from her bow, an arrow shot straight and true, and the final adversarial wolf fell at Alistair's feet, dead. Panting hard, leaning his hands on his knees, the young Warden shot Adela a grateful smile as she trotted up to him. Scanning the area quickly, assured there were no more foes at the moment, the young elf slung her bow back onto her shoulder, and carefully started running her hands over Alistair's neck, shoulders and arms. Forgetting his own shyness, the Warden appreciated her attention. "So, am I in one piece?" he asked, that jovial laughter back in his voice despite his panting.

Adela returned his smile and nodded, "Looks like you'll live," she responded, then left to go check on Daveth and Jory.

Daveth had escaped the fight without so much as a scratch, but Jory's armor had a few pulls where wolves had sunk their teeth into the leather straps of his scale armor. However, he didn't appear injured. Adela, her strong suit being archery, had stood back and shot at the pack of wolves that had inexplicably attacked them as they passed the boundaries of the Wilds. She glanced back at the bodies of about a dozen white wolves, thinking that it was too bad they did not have time to skin the animals. She knew a leather worker in Denerim that would love to work these hides.

Her gaze stopped at a pile of  _something_ lying near the shore of one of the swamps. Alistair noted the frown that formed on her face. "What?" he asked as he stood straight and went to her side. "Do you see it?" she asked, pointing in the direction. "It almost looks like…" and the frown turning in a scowl the elf broke off and began trotting away from the Warden in the direction of the pile. Muttering under his breath, Alistair glanced back toward the knight and rogue, who were both drinking water from flasks, and ran to catch up with the nimble elf.

Adela stopped quickly, her heart in her throat. The pile she had noticed was the decomposing body of a man. Despite the time in the weather, she was able to make out that he had been a young man, and dressed in what could have been Chantry robes.  _Not very practical for the Wilds_ , she thought grimly. She spied a scroll tube clutched in one hand. Stepping up to the body, she crouched down, and gingerly pulled the case free of the man's stiff fingers. She winched at the sucking sounds her feet made, there in the muddy shore of the pond. Pulling it free, she rose, holding the tube carefully. She stepped away from the body, pulled the ceramic cap from the tube and pulled the parchment rolled up inside out. Alistair had by this time moved to stand over Adela's shoulder, curious as to what the scroll said. Adela read, her eyes tearing a bit as she realized the fate of the young man mentioned in the note:

"My dear son, Jogby,

"I fear this is the last letter I will write to you, I have had difficulty finding the Chasind to bring them the Maker's word. I have, however, seen evidence of their passing. They appear to have left this area in great haste, possibly fleeing the so-called "darkspawn" that are rumored to be gathering in the Wilds in ever greater numbers.

"I have left you a weapon and everything else I can spare, my son. I will try to find you once I have found a safe place. I only hope that you will be safe. With luck, we will meet again.

"If you see her, tell your mother that I love her. And take care of you family.

"Your loving father,

"Rigby "

Adela bowed her head and Alistair looked back at the body. "Poor fellow," he murmured. Placing a hand on Adela's shoulder, the Warden gestured that they should rejoin their companions. With a final look at the body, regretful that they had to leave him there, a victim to the Wilds, they went back to the others, the young woman tucking the parchment back into the scroll tube and tucking it in her pack.

Jory and Daveth watched the pair approach. Tucking their water flasks back into their packs, the pair picked up their weapons and followed the pair, their eyes staring out into the surrounding wilderness with fear and apprehension.

An anguished, choking sound rose to Adela's sensitive ears and she stopped, putting a hand on Alistair's arm. The Warden stopped and cocked his head, listening. Yes, he heard it too. Exchanging a look with the elven archer, he trotted ahead and Adela turned to the others advising them to be prepared and to follow, weapons ready. She pulled her bow from her shoulder, notching an arrow, and followed the junior Warden.

There, dragging himself across the muddy ground, leaving a path of blood behind him, was a young soldier dressed in Highever livery. Adela replaced her bow and pulled from her pack healing poultices and bandages as Alistair knelt beside the man.

"Hold on, man," he whispered.

The injured solider glanced up. "What? Who?" he noticed the emblem on Alistair's shield. "Grey Wardens?"

"Hmm…he's not half as dead as he appears," Alistair deadpanned. Adela shot him a look and gently eased the man over on his side. He had numerous wounds along his chest and stomach, and while obviously painful and the man was fatigued, he would survive the injuries if he was taken back to camp. She voiced this, but the solider only shook his head, "Just…just bandage me up. I need…to report to Teryn Loghain and tell him that our patrol was overtaken by darkspawn!"

As Adela continued to bandage the soldier, Alistair continued asking him questions: Where was the rest of his patrol? Where was Fergus Cousland, the nobleman who led this patrol? Each question Alistair posed was answered in the negative - he did not know.

"There," Adela said as she tightened the last bandage and handed the man another poultice with instructions to place it on the deep wound on his chest once he returned to camp. With a grateful nod, the soldier pushed himself to his feet, and staggered back in the direction of the camp.

As Adela repacked her medical supplies, Alistair rose. He met two pair of dark, concerned eyes. It was Jory that spoke first. "Did you hear that?" He anxiously glanced about, as though the trees themselves would suddenly jump out and tear him apart. "A whole platoon of seasoned soldiers, wiped out."

"Calm down, Ser Jory," Alistair spoke in soothing tones. Adela stood up, pulling her bow from her shoulder.

"Calm down?" Jory's tone was incredulous. "How can I remain calm with a hoard of darkspawn about? Now," he straightened his shoulders slightly, "I'm no coward, but this is reckless and foolish. I say we return to camp."

"Ser Jory," the elf caught the human's attention. She almost winced at the fright she saw clearly in his eyes.  _Why did Duncan recruit this man_? "This is part of the joining, the see if we are worthy to join the Wardens…"

Jory scoffed, "Have I not already earned my place?" He demanded. "If I had known there would be more tests…!"

But Alistair was shaking his head, "There are darkspawn about, but we are in no danger of encountering the hoard or suffering an ambush." Maintaining that calm, comforting tone, he continued, "That's why I'm here."

"You see Ser Knight," Daveth piped in, "we may be killed, but we'll be warned about it first." Adela just rolled her eyes at the rogue.

"That is….reassuring." he conceded, albeit quite unwillingly.

"Fine, then," Alistair said, shouldering his pack, his shield and sword held at the ready. "Let's get a move on, shall we?" And, indicating for Adela to move on, the Warden stepped away from the two men. Shaking his head, Daveth followed after, while a still reluctant Jory numbly followed behind.

DA:O

The small band found themselves still in the Wilds as night fell. They had battled through several small bands of darkspawn and Alistair had to admit he was most impressed with the little elven archer. She knew how to follow orders and also to give them as necessary. She would fall back, bow and arrow ready, and send forth a steady stream of missiles as Alistair and Jory would meet the foes head on, Daveth sneaking around behind to put his daggers to work. The Warden was also impressed with Daveth's blade work as well as the rogue's courage, which surprised the young man greatly. At first glance, Daveth would not be someone that the word "courageous" would spring to mind.

Of the three recruits, Alistair found himself most disappointed with Jory. The man could wield a blade quite well, and could put a great deal of force out, and willingly took the brunt of most of the attacks. However, he always seemed on the verge of running once the battle was over, and he could never quite get beyond the fact that although he was a knight, and his fellow recruits a rogue and an elf, he was not the most qualified member of the team. That, added to his constant whining over his wife, was cause for Daveth to, several times, make a point of accosting the knight verbally with sneering, snide remarks. As the day went on, even Adela's even temperament was nearing its end.

Deciding it was unsafe to continue through the Wilds at night, the band set up camp. They had packed light, so none had a tent, but they did have bed rolls and means to start a fire. Alistair questioned whether it was wise to have one, but Adela figured that the darkspawn would find them regardless, and it was best to have the fire to hold back other predators. The other two recruits quickly agreed with the elf, and so a campfire was set up and lit. Unfortunately, there would not be any fresh meat to cook over the flames, and the group had to settle for iron rations.

After the camp was set, Adela had walked to the perimeter, staring out over the Wilds. Frowning, she realized she spotted the body of a man, laying within the deteriorated ruins of what must have been a gazebo.  _How many have died here recently_? She wondered as she motioned to Alistair to come with her. Alistair followed quietly as the elf led him to the body. It did not appear that he had been there for very long. Frowning, shaking his head, the former Templar offered up a word of prayer for the man. Adela searched his body, finding a note. Opening it, her frown deepened. "Oh," she whispered, glancing back at the body, "the poor woman."

 _Wait? Woman_? Alistair walked over to the woman's side. She handed him the note and went back to the body.

"To whoever finds this note,

"This is the last will and testament of Rigby the missionary, proud speaker of the Maker's word. I have come to the Wilds to speak the Chant, but I fear I will die here at the hands of the darkspawn.

"I leave all that I came with to my wife, Jetta. Should the reader of this note feel charitable, I have buried a sealed lockbox in our camp, nestled in a Tevinter ruin in the western reaches of the Wilds. It is my will that this lockbox finds my wife in Redcliffe, and that it is still sealed shut when it reaches her.

"To my wife and my son, I apologize that my work has taken me from you, but I know that I die in service to the Maker.

"Rigby"

Adela's blue eyes met Alistair's amber. "We have to find that lockbox and return it to her," she stated matter of factly, her eyes going back to the body. Alistair frowned. "Adela," he moved closer to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. He was sympathetic, but, "we have to find those treaties and get back to Duncan as quickly as possible."

But her eyes remained on the body of the missionary. He had risked so much to bring what he considered hope to the Wilderfolk. She shook her head, "Alistair. We can't give this man - or his son - a proper burial. His wife will be waiting in Redcliffe for word from either of them," she turned her penetrating gaze to Alistair, and he almost felt he could not deny her anything at that moment. "Waiting for word that will never come, unless we bring it to her."

Various wildlife chirped and howled throughout the Wilds. The pair stood over the body of a man whose only dream was to bring the Chant of Light to the barbarians of the Wilds. And Alistair found himself staring into the bluest eyes, now sapphire in the grief expressed for the wife of the dead man who lay before them. Adela placed a soft hand on his armored arm. "If this was me, laying here, my last thought of my family, wanting them to find peace, I would want someone to find the heart to do this one small task." She said the words so softly, so earnestly. Without a thought, not questioning it again, the junior Warden found himself nodding. His heart lifted at the appreciative smile that crossed Adela's face. "We'll search for the lockbox. And, if we find it, after the battle," he said, "I'll ask Duncan and we can both take it to Redcliffe."

"Thank you," she whispered, rising on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his scruffy cheek. With a final look at the body, she stepped away and went back to the campsite.

Alistair stood there for several moments longer, staring out into the Wilds, thanking the Maker for sending this strong hearted woman to the Wardens. As he stepped away, he amended that prayer.  _To him_.

DA:O

The last genlock fell, its body littered with arrows. Jory lay on the ground, groaning, while Daveth went about looting the darkspawn bodies. Cursing lightly under her breath, Adela pulled out healing poultices and bandages and ran to the knight, shaking her head at his stupidity. When Jory fought, he seemed to have eyes only for his current opponent.  _What did he think tournament rules applied to real battle_? She thought angrily as she tucked a poultice into a tear in his armor. The knight winced, trying to push her hands away. She slapped them away impatiently, binding the poultice in place with the bandages. That was the last of the bandages, most of them having gone to patching this very same knight up. She really could not believe Duncan recruited this man. "Next time I say 'duck'," she gave the man a shake, "I mean 'duck'!" Staring at her stupidly, Jory pushed himself to his feet, wobbling a bit.

Adela turned her attention from the man to the camp they found themselves in. According to Rigby's notes, this should be his camp.  _Now, where was that cache_ …she scouted around, scouring the ground. She glanced up briefly to see Alistair walking back into view. He had chased after a particularly nasty hurlock, but now returned without a mark on him, well, save for some blood.  _Ugh_! Glancing down at herself she allowed a moment of utter revulsion to pass through. It's going to take a week of baths just to get the smell off her! Alistair raised a hand in greeting, a self-satisfied grin on his face. Shaking her head, she went back to searching out Rigby's lockbox. Ah…there it is. She noticed the rocks that created the border of the fire pit were arranged strangely. There was no way that this arrangement would allow for a good, strong fire. Pulling the rocks away, she was rewarded by the sight of a metal box. A strong sense of relief swept through her, and she pulled the box free, tucking it into her pack.

"What, you're not gonna take a look inside?" Daveth, walking up to her, asked. She shook her head. "No. The contents are for Rigby's wife and her alone." Adela stood up. The rogue stared at her a moment. Then, with a shrug went back to his looting. She shook her head, and then turned to find Alistair watching her with great interest.

A tired smile, and she said, "What? Too much darkspawn guts in my hair?" She meant it as a joke, even knowing she probably wasn't too far off the mark. Alistair grinned. "But you really can pull that look off quite well." With a "ha ha" Adela shifted her pack onto her shoulders. "Where to, oh guide of Warden-ness?" she asked of the junior Warden. Chuckling, Alistair pointed to the north. "I believe the ruins are that way," he glanced at the two men who now approached the pair. "We should be able to reach it in a couple of hours."

Taking a deep breath, hoping that this little excursion was soon over (she really wanted a bath), Adela nodded and took her customary position up front.

DA:O

Two hours later, after several more minor skirmishes and one fairly tough battle - facing off against their first magic-wielding darkspawn called an emissary, the group arrived at the ancient tower formerly controlled by the Grey Wardens. Alistair ordered them to spread out and search out the chest. Adela picked through fallen rubble and rotten beams, making her way deeper into the ruin. She could hear Jory and Alistair both clumping along and the only sign Daveth was nearby was the occasional call out he gave so everyone knew his position. She made her way into what appeared to be a courtyard. Glancing up, she saw that it wasn't a courtyard, but had once been a great hall. The ceiling had fallen in long ago, and only remnants remained, clinging to the support walls. She lightly skipped over the rubble and spotted what they had come here for. Lying against one of the walls was the ruined remains of a metal chest, engraved with the Grey Warden seal. Frowning, believing that the treaties had long since been destroyed, Adela called out to her companions, and then stepped toward the chest. Kneeling down, she carefully examined the ground before and around the chest, checking for any traps that may yet still be operational. Finding none, she turned her attention to the chest itself. Rubble from the ceiling lay upon the crushed cover of the once ornate chest. The lock had been smashed and hung useless by its mechanism. Pulling the granite off the chest, she pushed the lid up, revealing a chest full of rubble and dust, but nothing else. She rose as the others walked into the chamber. Turning to them she opened her mouth to let them know what happened when a sultry voice echoed from one of the chambers off the hall.

"Well, well, well," the voice said, and in walked a young woman, about Alistair's age, sauntering into the room. Raven haired, with eyes yellow as a predator, clothed in bits of rags, leather and feathers that barely covered her graceful form, she continued her slow, seductive walk. "What have we here?" she asked. "Are you a vulture, I wonder? A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones have been long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled wilds of mine in search of... easy prey?"

She stopped in front of Adela. "Well? What say you?"

"Don't answer," Alistair had moved closer to Adela and whispered to her. "She looks Chasind and others may be nearby…"

"Oh, you fear barbarians would swoop down upon you!" she raised her arms dramatically.

"Yeeesss…." came Alistair's snide reply, "swooping…is…bad."

Adela frowned, turning back to the strange human woman, "We are not intruders. This tower belongs to the Grey Wardens."

"'Tis a tower no longer," the mysterious woman replied.

"She's a witch of the wilds, I tell you!" Daveth nervously broke in, his voice fairly humming with fear, "We shouldn't be talking to her! She'll turn us into toads"

"Witch of the Wilds?" she 'tsked' at the frightened man. Shaking her head, she turned her attention back to the elf. "You there, girl. Women do not frighten as easily as men. Tell me your name and I'll tell you mine."

Adela felt Alistair move closer. Although the woman seemed strange, she didn't get a strong feeling of danger from her. Taking a small step away from Alistair (she heard his sharp intake of breath when she did so), she replied. "My name is Adela." she offered a small smile.

The witch returned the smile, "And I am Morrigan." She paused. "Let me guess, you've come here in search of something…something which is here no longer?"

"Here no longer?" Alistair broke in, irritation evident in his voice. "You took them, didn't you," he accused. "You're some kind of…sneaky witch thief!"

"How very eloquent," the woman's archaic, clipped voice held a touch of amusement. "I wonder, how does one steal from dead men?"

"Very easily, it appears," Alistair's voice took on an authoritative quality, and he faced off against the woman, "Those treaties are Grey Warden property, and I demand you return them."

"I will not for 'twas not I who took them." She scoffed. "Invoke a name which means nothing here any longer. I will not be threatened."

"Who took them?" Adela asked, remaining calm, hoping Alistair would do the same.

"Now there's a sensible question," Morrigan chuckled lowly, "I like you."

"Careful," came a warning from Alistair, "First it's," and his voice went an octave higher, "'I like you'" and then lowered to normal, "and then 'zap!' Frog time."

Morrigan scowled at Alistair, clearly not liking the man. "'Twas my mother in fact," she replied to Adela's question, deciding to just ignore the man completely.

Adela frowned. Things were not going as they should. Finding Morrigan, a lone woman just wandering around while darkspawn were about was more than a little disconcerting and suspicious. Still, they needed those treaties. "Can you take us to her?" she asked. All three men behind her gasped, and Alistair this time grasped her arm. She shook her head at the man, her eyes never leaving Morrigan's strange yellow eyes.

The witch smiled and nodded. "Indeed I can. Follow me, if you will," and without another word, led them from the ruins and through a part of the wilderness they had not traversed. They soon crossed a small wooden foot bridge over a swampy part of the marsh, and into a clearing in which sat a small hut. An elderly woman with eyes similar to Morrigan's stood at the door, as though she had expected them.

"Mother, I bring before you four Grey Wardens…" Morrigan began, but was cut off by her mother. "I see them girl," she turned those strange eyes to the newcomers. "Just as I expected," she said in deep, breathy tones.

"What?" Alistair said, "Are we to believe you were expecting us?"

"You are required to do nothing, least of all believe." She chuckled. "Believe what you will," the old woman replied, smirking at the man. "For it is not I who decides. Open one's arms wide or close ones eyes tight, either way, one's a fool." Her attention shifted to Adela, her eyes brightening with interest. "And, you. Does your elven mind tell you something else?" The old witch watched the girl with great interest. Trepidation came over her.  _Was she being tested_? "I'm not sure what to believe," she answered honestly. Her answer apparently pleased the old woman for she cackled with pleasure. "Now there's an answer that indicates more wisdom then it implies. Be always aware, or is it oblivious," she looked down at her shoes. "I can never remember." she muttered that last part.

Alistair smirked, whispering to Adela, "Sooo…this is a dreaded witch of the wilds?" Adela shrugged one shoulder, still not believing they were even having this conversation.

"Witch of the Wilds?" the old woman cackled. "Morrigan must have told you that! She's always loved old tales. Oh! How she dances under the moon!" she cackled some more. Morrigan merely placed a hand on her forehead, as though trying to forestall a headache. "They did not come to hear your wild tales, Mother."

"True. They came for their treaties. And, before you start barking," she said clearly as she handed over the documents to Adela, "I have kept these safe."

"You…you kept them safe?" Alistair just couldn't believe it.

"Of course. And, tell your fellow Grey Wardens that this Blight is more than they realize." Sagely spoken, the woman seemed quite pleased with herself.

"More than they realize?" Adela asked, "How?"

The old woman laughed, ""Either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!" she cackled.

With a glance to Alistair, Adela replied, "Thank you for keeping safe the treaties and the information regarding the Blight."

"Such manners! And always in the last place you look... like stockings!" Again, she looked down at her feet - actually her stockings.

"Now is time for you to leave," Morrigan broke in, in hopes of forestalling any further nonsense from her mother.

"Don't be rude, girl," the old woman admonished. "These are your guests."

"Oh," Morrigan sulked. "Very well." She glared at the group. "Follow me." and reluctantly guided the four from the clearing and back to where they had entered the Wilds. Turning to thank Morrigan, Adela was acknowledged with a slight scoff, a toss of a raven haired head, and then Morrigan just walked off. Daveth, having gotten over his initial fright, gave a whistle of appreciation to the woman's swaying hips. "What?" he asked when he spotted Jory and Alistair glaring at him. "She may be a witch, but, boy, those are some fine hips!". Still frowning, Alistair led the recruits from the wilderness and back to camp.

 


	9. Chapter 9

Rid of his bodyguards, Loghain stalked through the camp, passed where fearful soldiers prostrated themselves in prayer to the Maker, to the spot the Warden recruits were camped. Glaring about the site, he grumbled as he took note that no one was present.  _Where was that bastard_? He snarled to himself. He had seen him not an hour before speaking with Cailan. He surely had not gotten very far.

As he continued his brooding and search, Loghain found himself momentarily unnerved by his very strong reaction to the knowledge that soon Adela would be committed to the Grey Wardens. The longer he thought about it, the more enraged he became.

Lately, his emotions had been becoming…erratic. He was aware of this fact, but had been finding himself increasingly unable to calm them. He put it down to the ongoing gossip regarding Cailan's fidelity to Anora, the increasing volume to the whispers of the nobles that Anora need be set aside in favor of a younger, presumably more fertile queen, and now Cailan's insistence that they rely upon the Orlesians to assist with the darkspawn incursion. This did not explain to his satisfaction why he was so angry about the idea of Adela being here, in the line of fire, about to be initiated into the secretive order that was the Grey Wardens.

 _If only the girl would stay in Denerim where I could watch over her_! He stopped in his tracks, absorbing that last thought. Not wanting to follow the path his thoughts took with that little admission, he continued his search for the Commander of the Grey.

His diligence was rewarded shortly as he spotted Duncan stepping away from the magi's encampment. The elderly mage, Wynne, watched Duncan walk away before turning back to the tranquil she had been assisting. His eyes now on his target, Loghain advanced upon the other man.

"Duncan, a word," Loghain called, his voice holding back any of the overwrought emotions he was dealing with. Duncan paused and turned toward the Teryn, his face remaining impassive. Duncan had been expecting this confrontation for some time now.

"Teryn Loghain," the commander bowed respectfully. "How may I be of assistance?" His tone of voice calm. Duncan made a conscious decision to not start the conversation in an antagonizing manner. He and the Teryn had a history of…dislike for one another, and he had no desire to exacerbate the situation now.

Loghain's brows furrowed downwards, the scowl firmly in place. "You must be pleased with yourself, Warden," he remarked, sarcasm heavy in his voice.

A brow rose slightly at that, and Duncan responded evenly. "Pleased? How so?"

The scowl on Loghain's face only deepened. "You finally have a Mahariel in your pocket," he snarled. "You must have been greatly pleased to get your hands on her."

Although expecting some kind of confrontation with the Teryn regarding Adela's conscription, Duncan was surprised by the naked emotion that the Teryn tried to keep a rein on. The Warden stood for a moment, studying his old adversary's face. He could not help but wonder if the girl in question was aware of how the older man felt about her. Knowing Adela, most likely not.

"I assure you, Teryn Loghain," he started, still maintaining his calm. "Had I not conscripted young Adela, she would have been taken to Fort Drakon and from there to the gallows." He frowned. "And we both know her time at Fort Drakon would have been less than pleasant."

"Anora would never…" the Teryn started harshly, taking a step forward.

However, Duncan cut him off, "Adela had no intention of calling for sanctuary from the Queen or anyone else." A lesser man would have backed down from the intensity that was Loghain. However, Duncan was not a lesser man and so met Loghain's stance, dark eyes meeting those icy orbs.

"She was willing to take full responsibility," he frowned slightly at recalling just how willing she was to give up her life so that no harm would befall her beloved Alienage. "And she understood exactly what that meant." He noticed a slightly confused expression crease Loghain's brow, and the taller man stepped back, watching as the Warden continued. "I had to conscript her and even then argue with her to accept it. She actually called me on it several times during our journey here."

"What happened?" Loghain asked, the aggressive tone all but melting away from his voice.

Duncan shook his head. "It is not my place to discuss that," the Warden explained, watching as renewed anger clouded the Teryn's face. He stepped back, bowing, and turned to leave. "That is something you need to discuss with Adela." With those words, he walked away from the seething Teryn.

Loghain could only watch the Warden's retreating back as his anger reasserted itself anew.

DA:O

"A bath," Adela was muttering as they passed beyond the Wilds' boundaries and back into camp. Alistair grinned at her. "No, really," she was adamant. "I really need a bath."

She grimaced at the tight feel of blood and dirt on her exposed skin, and glanced over to their campsite. No Duncan in sight. Hmm…"I'm going to skip over to my tent and then see if I can get a quick wash before Duncan arrives…" and with those words, she left the three men.

Alistair watched the elven woman skip away to the campsite. Daveth took the opportunity to walk up beside the junior Warden, whistling a little as he, too, watched the lovely elf with great appreciation in his eyes.

"Yup," the rogue said, drawing Alistair's attention to him. "Now that right there is a fine piece," he continued, grinning at the other man. Jory just scoffed as he stalked away from the pair, and Alistair shot the other man a glare. Daveth noticed the look, but wasn't going to keep quiet. "C'mon, chantry boy," he quipped, obviously trying to rile him. "Don't you be tellin' me that you haven't noticed her fine…" he grinned, "assets."

His grin widened as Alistair remained silent. "I seem to recall you noticing them fairly well when we left camp the other day. Oh," and Daveth quickened his pace away from the larger man, "and while we was in the Wilds," he grinned wider still, "and at camp…" Then, the rogue turned away and stepped into the campsite.

Alistair just shook his head, a relieved smile on his face as he spotted Duncan walking toward them.  _Looks like Adela is not going to get her bath just yet,_  the young man thought with a great deal of sympathy. That sympathy erupted into mirth as he watched the girl exit her tent, sundries in hand, only to have Duncan shake his head "no". Frowning, looking like a child whose favorite toy had been taken away, the girl reluctantly tossed her bag back into her tent and stood before the Warden Commander, waiting for the others.

Duncan nodded as Alistair stepped into the site. "Good. I see that you are all back," his eyes still on Alistair, he added, "were you successful?"

Alistair nodded, handing Duncan three vials of darkspawn blood. "Yes, Duncan. Each of the recruits felled at least one darkspawn and retrieved the blood." He stood straight, as though at a military inspection. "Although to be fair, each of the recruits felled far more than just one of the creatures."

"Oh?" Duncan watched the junior Warden. "Very good." He turned to see a young mage enter the campsite. "Take these to Senior Enchanter Wynne and ask her to finalize the rite." The mage nodded his head, turned and left, carefully holding the vials.

"And the treaties?" Adela had already pulled them from her pack and handed them to Duncan. He looked them over briefly and then put them into a leather pouch hanging at his hip.

Adela watched as Duncan packed away the treaties, and then spoke, "Okay, Duncan. Are we near enough to the joining ceremony to know what's going on?"

He nodded, "I will not lie to you," his voice was serious, and he fixed each of the recruits with a penetrating stare. "We Grey Wardens pay a heavy price to become what we are. Fate may decide that you pay that price now rather than later."

"You mean, we could die?" Jory asked, dread fairly dripping from his voice.

"Yes, it is possible."

"Well," Daveth remarked, clapping his hands together once. "I'd've been hung in Denerim had you not the sense to see my own very remarkable skills," he boasted. "So, I'm 'bout as ready as I'll ever be for this here joining."

"I, too, am ready," Jory remarked, trying to swallow down his fear.

Adela was nodding. She looked up. "Like Daveth, I would be dead - or worse - had you not come along, Duncan. If I die here, at least I had a few extra weeks and got to journey to Ostagar."

Duncan nodded sagely, yet felt a keen sense of pride at the young woman's words. A look over at Alistair told him that the junior Warden, although apparently upset by what could be the outcome, held a modicum of pride as well. "Alistair," he got the other Warden's attention. "Bring the recruits to the old temple. We will begin the joining shortly."

"Yes, Duncan," he replied as Duncan turned and walked to the old temple.

Muttering that she could have taken a bath first, Adela followed the others. As they passed the kennels, though, she ran to the kennel master and handed him a white flower. The man seemed pleased and wanted to speak more, but she waved him off and hurried away. It was then that Alistair recalled her picking that flower, saying something about a sick mabari. She caught up with the men just as they were heading up the ramp to meet with Duncan.

Duncan had stepped away to speak with the white haired mage, motioning Alistair to follow. The elderly mage handed Duncan a chalice, said a few words to both men and then departed.

Duncan turned to Alistair, speaking softly, "What was your impression of our recruits during their foray into the Wilds?"

Alistair frowned slightly, running his hand through his hair. "Well…" he did not know where to start. "I have to admit to a bit of…confusion…as to why Ser Jory was recruited," he looked over at his mentor, who was studying him without expression. "He's skilled with that huge sword of his, but…I don't know. He seems to lack heart - it's so closely tied to his wife and unborn child that that's all he seems to think about. He also doesn't really have a sense for battle, like it's all a great big tournament and we're all invited to watch." Alistair shrugged. "He, well, he also seems to lack a bit of respect for those who aren't…" Alistair struggled here for the right word. "I don't know…knights? Nobles? Human? Men?"

Duncan raised his eyebrows. "Oh? How so?"

Sputtering out a sigh, (he really did not like doing this, bad talking someone who may well become a brother warden), he continued. "He seemed to take on a superior air with Daveth, and all but treated Adela like she was some servant. Well, until she set him straight in that regard and Daveth can give as good as he takes."

Duncan frowned a bit at that, but said nothing. They had recruited nobles before and could well deal with someone's act of superiority. If nothing else, the more senior wardens would figuratively (and perhaps literally) beat it out of him.

"What about Daveth?" Duncan prodded, keeping the conversation on course.

Hi smirked and nodded. "You know, when I first met him, I was sure he was some braggart rogue looking to steal your purse with one hand, stab you in the back with the other, all while trying to bed some poor unsuspecting girl."

"And now?"

Alistair laughed. "Well, I don't think he's going to stab us in the back." Duncan chuckled at that. "He actually showed amazing courage facing the darkspawn, and was wherever any of us needed his blade at any time. He followed orders well, and just seemed to know where he was needed." Alistair grinned. "He's also friendly. I thought for certain he would be the most obnoxious ass, but he's fair decent, once you know to expect the snide remark here or there, and you know he's going to flirt with the girls." The young Warden nodded. "He'll make a good addition to the Wardens."  _If he survives_ , he silently finished.

Nodding, his arms crossed against his chest, Duncan then asked about Adela. This was a subject Alistair could warm up to. "It's obvious she doesn't have a lot of actual battle experience. There were a few times she seemed to hesitate and when a foe got too close, I thought she'd jump out of her skin." He frowned a bit. "I even recall her acting skittish whenever one of us moved too closely. However, she listened well, asked questions when needed, and followed instruction. Heck, Duncan, she was even ordering us around toward the end there. She's a natural when it comes to leadership and that, I think, more than makes up for any lack of battle experience she may have."

"I had thought so as well," Duncan agreed, motioning for the young man to continue.

"She's deadly accurate with her bow; but needs more work with hand-to-hand combat; she's courageous even when she's scared stiff." Alistair grinned. "Should I go on about how she's smart, funny, beautiful, puts people at ease…?" Duncan smirked, raising a brow. "Oh! In addition, she's a healer. Whenever any of us got injured, she was right there with poultices and bandages."

"Hmmm…I'd imagine in the Alienage they would need their own as healers, as many therein would be unable to afford a healer from outside the Alienage." Duncan put in.

"You know, I never thought of that. So, Adela must have been one of their healers," the young man mused. "Huh."

Duncan's attention shifted to the three recruits. Jory and Daveth are bantering - bickering - back and forth and Adela is barely paying any attention to them. He noticed she was watching him and Alistair and when she noticed his focus on her, she gave a small embarrassed smile and turned back to her companions. "Thank you, Alistair. I believe we should begin the joining."

The pair of Wardens walked back to the three recruits.

Duncan turned to face the trio. "We bear a sacred burden. For an age, we have protected the lands of men. Now, a Blight is upon us and we dare not falter. Regardless of race, station in life, mage or warrior. The best must take up our banner to save us all from annihilation."

He paused. "We Grey Wardens were founded during the first Blight, when humanity stood on the verge of annihilation. And so it was that the first Grey Wardens drank of darkspawn blood," he looked at each recruit before continuing, "and mastered it's taint."

Jory paled. "We…we're going to drink the…blood of those…those creatures?"

"As the first Grey Wardens did before us, as we," he motioned to include Alistair, "did before you. This is the source of our power," he clenched a fist before him, "and our victory."

"Those who survive the joining become immune to the taint," Alistair advised, seeking to ease the tensions of the knight. "We can sense it in the darkspawn and use it to slay the Archdemon."

Adela looked over her fellow recruits. Jory was terrified, Daveth resolute. To Duncan she spoke in a small voice, "It's the darkspawn blood that could also kill us."

"Those who survive the joining are forever changed. This is why the joining is a secret. It is the price we pay."

Recalling all the times she bothered Duncan and Alistair regarding the joining, the elf smiled sadly a bit.

"We speak only a few words prior to the joining. But these words have been said since the first." he turned to the junior Warden. "Alistair, if you would."

"Join us, brothers and sisters." Alistair began, his voice soft and reverent, his head bowed. Daveth and Adela each bowed their heads, as did Duncan. Jory's fearful gaze kept going back to the chalice, its presence foreboding, terrifying in its call of duty.

"Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that cannot be foresworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten, and that one day we shall join you."

Turning to pick up the chalice, Duncan called Daveth forth. "Daveth, step forward," he turned back to the young man. "From this moment forth, you are a Grey Warden."

Daveth took the chalice in steady hands. He tossed a mischievous grin Adela's way, "Well, guess this is it. Will you be impressed when I'm a Grey Warden?" he joked, recalling his first meeting with the pretty elf. Adela graced him with a wide smile, giving him a small shrug. His attention back to the chalice, he brought it up to his lips and drank.

He handed the chalice back, but this time his hands were shaking, terribly so. Adela gasped as Daveth grabbed hold of his throat, choking. His eyes rolled into the back of his head and he stumbled. With a gurgling cry, he slumped to the ground.

Forcing herself to  _stand still_ , the elf watched as Duncan knelt down, feeling for a pulse. The Commander bowed his head, and murmured, "I am sorry, Daveth." Fear clenched Adela's stomach, and she felt the need to vomit. She controlled the urge, knowing that there was no turning back. She would live or die. As a Grey Warden.

Duncan turned to the knight, "Jory, step forward," he commanded.

But Jory stepped back toward the wall, cornering himself in. "No." he mumbled. "I have a wife…a child…"

"There is no turning back," Duncan advised, advancing with the chalice. Jory started to pull his sword.

"No, there is no glory in this!" His sword was fully out of its sheath and he was bringing it to bear.

Adela made to move toward the frightened knight, but Alistair pulled her back and away. The elf gasped as the young man placed his hands on her arms, holding her too closely against him. She shook her head, trying to move away from him. That only caused Alistair to hold more firmly.

The junior Warden cursed Jory's cowardice, not only for his own sake, but also for Adela.  _She didn't need to be any more frightened than she already was_ , he thought bitterly, feeling her trembling almost uncontrollably beneath his hands.

Jory made a lunge at Duncan, which the older man easily side stepped. Drawing a curved blade - it appeared Dalish - Duncan sprang forward, his blade sinking into Jory's chest, piercing his heart. Gasping out, Jory fell to the ground, dead. Duncan bowed his head as he resheathed his knife. "I am sorry, Jory," he whispered.

Alistair had released Adela, and she stepped away from him, but did not make a move to run. She stared at Jory's body for a moment, surprised that Duncan actually killed the man because he was afraid. _There is no turning back_ Duncan had said.

Duncan was speaking to her now. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the Commander, trying to focus on his words. She could not understand them, they seemed garbled and like so much gibberish. _Don't panic_ , she scolded herself as she reached for the chalice Duncan held out to her. Biting her bottom lip, she looked into the cup.

The contents were black, brackish, with a vile odor. Anxiety caught her breath, but she knew if she refused, Duncan would kill her as he had poor Jory. She had no doubt of that. Not his friendship with her mother, not hers with Cailan and Anora, or their own growing friendship would stay his blade. The Grey Wardens did what they had to do to stop a Blight, even if it meant keeping their secrets safe. Now she truly understood why her mother had hated the order so;  _the secrecy_ , and what terrible secrets they did, indeed, have. She found she could not even blame Duncan. He would not have known until his own joining. Honorable as he was, with such a strong sense of duty, he would not let any of those secrets out, even to spare someone he may care for.

Taking a breath, she brought the cup to her lips, swallowing the contents. The taste was bitter, and burned down her throat. The burning felt like acid and fire, lightening and frost, twisting its way down her throat. The thought  _and so I die_  crossed her mind, and she fought the fear that rose with that thought. Gasping, she fell to the cold stone, where darkness overtook her.

Alistair rushed forward, kneeling beside the prone elf. Duncan watched as he checked her pulse, and noted the relief that spread unchecked over the young man's face. Duncan set the cup down, and allowed himself to feel the same relief. She lived, just as he thought she would.

He frowned as he looked at the bodies of the two men. Daveth's death he had not expected, but he had doubted Jory would have survived even if he had drank of the chalice.

He turned back to see that Alistair had picked the girl up and was holding her in his lap.

"Are you alright here?" he asked the younger man.

Alistair looked up. "If it's all the same to you," he replied, "I'll...I'll just stay here with her until she awakens."

While he normally would not have encouraged such coddling after a joining, Duncan was not about to dissuade the young man. "Of course. I need to find Artan anyway and inform him of the results of the joining." He looked sadly over at the bodies of Jory and Daveth. "And, I'll send someone over to remove the other two before she awakens. She does not need to see that."

Alistair nodded to Duncan and did not watch as he walked away. He turned his eyes back to Adela, brushing a stray lock from her face. He allowed himself a small, almost sad smile as he noted the dirt and blood that remained on her face and in her hair.

_She is definitely going to want a bath._

DA:O

"So?" Duncan's huge second asked as he stalked up to his Commander. "Did the li'l lass survive?"

Duncan looked up into the larger man's face and nodded. "That she did my friend."

"Huh." the bear of a man scoffed, "Who'd've thunk it. Scrawny thing like that…" he glanced over at Duncan. "'Course, she probably got her ma's temerity, eh?"

Duncan chuckled. "And then some."

"An' the others?" Artan was frowning. He had a feeling at least one of those men had perished. It was seldom that all recruits survived. And Artan just had a feeling that the squirrelly knight wouldn't have the balls to survive. Duncan confirmed that much, but surprised him when he told him of Daveth's dying.

"Humph!" the big man sighed, "Someone with that guy's nerve I'd've thought would'a lived. He jest seemed to have that survivor's knack." He shrugged. "Got someone cleaning up, eh?" Right to the point, Artan never danced around a subject, even one as unpleasant as removing the bodies of those who died during the joining.

Duncan nodded, pulling the treaties from their pouch and looking them over. "Indeed. Timmins and Reese are doing so now."

Artan scoffed, frowning, "What 'bout that li'l chantry boy?"

Duncan chuckled at that. Alistair was one of the larger men in the Wardens, standing several inches taller than Duncan did. Of course, everyone was small compared to Artan.

"Why ain't he cleanin' up the mess?"

Duncan looked over at the man from under furrowed brows. "He's watching over Adela at the moment."

 _Well…ain't that interestin'_?

Artan stared at his commander for a moment, then suddenly barked out a bellow of a laughter. "Now! Who'd'a thunk it!" Duncan looked up, surprised. "If'n I di'nt know better, I'd be thinking that you planned that."

He laughed harder at Duncan's raised brows. "Now, doncha be tryin' to deny it, you old fool. Yer tryin' to get the li'l boy hooked, ain't ya?" Artan nudged Duncan's shoulder. Well, nudged for Artan is nearly knocking the man off his feet.

Steadying himself, Duncan replied. "And how could I do that, my friend?"

"Pfwt!" he nearly spit. "Now we're all aknowin' yer practically a da to the lad. And, then you come back with a pretty li'l thing, sweet as can be, smart, and brave. I'm fair certain you di'nt bring her back fer yerself," his blue eyes went shrewd. "Or did ya?"

Rolling his eyes, Duncan shook his head. "I've done no such thing, Artan." He looked at his friend. "If Alistair likes the girl, and she likes him as well, then we will count that as a happy coincidence."

"Yeah, yeah," Artan mumbled, walking away to resume his duties. "Wha' ever ya say, boss."

DA:O

_Roiling black clouds blocked the sunshine, the smell of blood and death and decay assaulted her senses. Above, a terrible screaming roar shot through the air, vibrating in her ears, making her knees tremble. Staring up, she saw the huge, dark shape of the great dragon swoop down to her, its near skeletal form covered with taut skin. Giant wings beat the air, creating tornadoes in their midst, and its tail lashed behind it maliciously. Shielding her eyes from the maelstrom, Adela rose to her feet, steadying herself against the fierce winds. Then, the dragon reared back, and then lunged at the girl, breathing fire and smoke, lightening and frost…._

Screaming, Adela lurched up, holding her head in trembling hands. She felt strong arms wrap around her, a soft, gentle voice speaking soothing words. Steadying her breathing, she swallowed her terror, taking deep breaths while listening to the calm voice.

Still not quite focused or aware of where she was, she glanced around.  _Oh yes_ , she thought,  _the joining_.

Jory and Daveth were gone; Duncan stood nearby, watching. She looked up at the young man who held her. A brief moment - a terrible body memory - and she stiffened, jerking her body instinctively away from Alistair. Shaking her head -  _this is not Vaughan_ \- she tried to force herself to relax, but her body would not obey her mind and remained stiff and unyielding. She felt Alistair twitch in confusion, a questioning look on his fine face, but he released her and stood.

Duncan, seeing that she was awake, walked over to the pair as Alistair helped Adela to her feet.

"How do you feel?" Alistair asked, holding her hand, concern in his voice.

She nodded, finding it hard to find her voice.  _What was that she saw_? She swallowed, and spoke, "I'm…I'm fine. A terrible dream, that's all."

Duncan and Alistair both nodded. "You will find that you will have these dreams often." Duncan put his hand to her chin and tipped her head up. "There are a great many things you will learn about what it is to be a Grey Warden over the months to come."

She nodded. "More secrets, I suppose," she replied, frowning deeply.

"Indeed." Duncan acknowledged, his eyes searching her face. "Take a few moments. Then join me for a meeting. You will find us to the west."

 _What_? "What meeting?" she asked, strength returning, she pulled her hands from Alistair's grip and stood facing her Commander.

"A strategy meeting with the king and Teryn Loghain," Duncan frowned. "I am not certain why they requested your presence, however."

Grimacing, she looked down at herself.  _Still dirty_. "I don't suppose I have time for a bath?"

Duncan noted the disgust in the girl's voice. If he had his way, she would be on her way to the bathhouse and then to bed. But, as it was, with both the king and teryn requesting her presence…"I'm afraid not quite yet, little lady."

"Before I forget," Alistair was saying, pulling an amulet and chain from his side pouch. "It's tradition that each new Warden receives one of these amulets. It contains a bit of the blood used at the joining." He fastened the amulet to the chain and then slipped it over Adela's head. "To remember those who didn't make it this far."

The girl held up the amulet. Emblazoned on its shiny surface was the emblem of the Grey Wardens: a rearing griffon.

Duncan was turning to leave. "Wait, Duncan," she called, hurrying to his side. "I'm ready to go now."

Duncan studied her face carefully. It was obvious the girl was quite shaken, and he felt that it was more than just the dream. However, they had never spoken of it before, and now was not the time to broach the subject. "Are you certain?" He felt a great deal of pride as she resolutely nodded her head. He motioned for her to go ahead. She took a step forward, and then turned back to Alistair.

"Thank you, Alistair," she said, giving him a tremulous smile. "For staying with me."

Alistair smiled widely. "Anytime."

She turned back to Duncan and followed him to the strategy meeting.

DA:O

The pair headed toward the war council area, where Cailan and several others stood. When Adela spotted Loghain, she had an almost unconscious thought to fix her hair. Grimacing at the stiff feel, she let her hands fall to her sides. Nothing short of a good, hot soak was going to make her hair resemble anything shy of a bloody helmet. Frowning, shoving aside any hopes of protecting her vanity, the girl followed the Grey Warden Commander.

Cailan was the first to take note of their entrance. He offered Duncan a wide smile, but his eyes widened and the smile fell when he saw Adela and the bloody, dirty shape she was in.

The young king's reaction at the sight of the elven woman captured the attention of Loghain, who was bent over a topographical map depicting the Ostagar ruins in great detail. The teryn's eyes narrowed at her sorry state, casting a malevolent glare at her commander.

Adela rolled her eyes at both men, raising her hands. "I'm fine, I'm fine," she sighed, "All of this mess - not mine." She grinned -  _actually grinned_ \- as she said that. It was true. Despite these two men - wonderful though they were - trying to convince her and anyone else who would listen that she was not a warrior, she had come back from the Wilds virtually unscathed and covered with the blood of many darkspawn that had fallen to her bow and blades. She hoped these two would finally see that she could take care of herself.

Cailan's horrified expression eased, but when she looked at Loghain, she could tell he was not convinced nor calmed. If anything, he seemed angrier.  _Ah, well_ , she thought,  _I'll just have to deal with that later._

As Duncan and Adela took their places opposite Cailan and Loghain at the table, others walked in. One, an elderly woman with a perpetual scowl of self-importance, dressed in elaborate chantry robes, strolled in, flanked by several Templars. Adela knew immediately that this was the Grand Cleric, for she had seen her often at the Denerim Chantry.

The other was a squirrelly looking man dressed in heavily embroidered mage robes with a bald head and his own air of self-importance.  _Obviously a mage_.

The two glared openly at each other as they took opposite stances to the side as the king, teryn and Warden Commander discussed the upcoming battle.

Truthfully, Adela found the meeting rather boring. She had no knowledge of strategy, and could offer no advice or suggestions. Duncan, Cailan and Loghain discussed, argued and strategize as the Grand Cleric and mage continued to scowl and glare at each one another.

Adela did notice that occasionally the Grand Cleric's attention would shift to her, an obvious look of disgust and disapproval clear on her overly wrinkled, sour face.  _Either she's unhappy an elf is here,_ Adela thought without any humor _, or she, too thinks I really need a bath._

Cailan and Loghain were currently arguing about the front lines and the possibility of waiting for the Orlesian forces to arrive. Loghain was adamant that they did not need the Orlesians and had actually called Cailan a fool. Adela stared at the Teryn. Never had she heard him use that tone of voice with Cailan, ever. The king himself seemed a bit taken aback by Loghain's attitude, and, in a firm voice, proceeded to remind the Teryn just who the king was here.

Adela glanced over at Duncan; he too seemed surprised by the turn the conversation was taking.

"Who will light the beacon?" Cailan was asking.

Loghain shrugged. "I have an idea as to who should go and light it. It's not a dangerous mission, but it is vital." The Teryn's eyes rested upon Adela. "I think Adela should be given that task."

Cailan chuckled. "Now there is something we both can agree to." The king turned to Duncan. "And Alistair should accompany her."

A strange, veiled look passed over Loghain's face, but it was gone, replaced with his usual scowl. "Fine. So long as the beacon is lit as it should."

The meeting was concluded shortly thereafter. As Adela passed nearby Loghain, the Teryn walked over to her, easily meeting her strides. "Adela," he said in low tones. "I wish to speak with you." He looked up and then back into her eyes. "I'll send a messenger along to fetch you."

The elf looked up in his icy eyes, a questioning frown on her face. She nodded, saying, "I really need a bath, first."

Loghain chuckled, stepping back to look at her. She was covered in blood and dirt, locks of her hair encased in blood. "That you most certainly do, dear girl." With that, he nodded to her and left.

Duncan had come up to her side by then, his questioning eyes following Loghain. The pair resumed their walk to the camp in silence.

Alistair was not at the site, and so Adela did take that opportunity to retrieve her toiletries and went to the bathhouse. The servants had made a point of assuring there would always be a hot bath available behind the partitions. Grimacing as she peeled off her filthy armor, the girl sighed as she sank into the steaming water. Ducking down, she fully immersed herself in the water, letting it soak into her hair. Picking up her bar of soap, the girl washed herself, letting her bath take as long as it took the water to cool.

Washed, dressed in a clean tunic and breeches, her hair combed back in a damp curtain down her back, she gingerly carried her armor back to camp and tossed her pack back into her tent.

She was unsure as to why Loghain asked to speak with her. She was already fully aware he was not pleased with her joining the Wardens and she truly hoped this was not another lecture. At this point, where she had passed the joining, she felt that the matter needed to be put to rest.

She combed her fingers through her hair (so nice and clean), sat before the fire, picked up a cloth and began to scrub the dirt and blood from the armor.

Her hair was almost dry, curling around her face, a shimmering wave of blonde down her back. She had just finished oiling her armor when Loghain's messenger arrived.

With a sigh, pressing her fingers against the bridge of her nose, the elf roe and followed the young man to Loghain's tent. The guard standing duty was different from the one who was there the first time she visited with the Teryn, and this one greeted her with a slight nod of the head. The messenger bowed slightly, taking his leave. Smiling, the elven woman stepped through the flap and into the cool, dark interior of Loghain's tent.

She very nearly screamed as strong hands enclosed about her shoulders, pulling her forward.


End file.
